


Resident Evil anthology

by DefaultJane



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Cats, Cleon, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hunniper - Freeform, Mild Hurt/Comfort, NSFW Art, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Violence, Random & Short, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 73,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaultJane/pseuds/DefaultJane
Summary: This will contain short one shots I've written based on prompts and ships sent to me. I will add more characters and tags as I go along. Each chapter is its own story, usually not much longer than couple of thousand words, possibly less. They aren't edited much after writing so you're basically getting it straight out of the oven which means they'll proooobably leave a lot to be desired at least in some aspects. Then again, what can you really expect, most of these were written in an hour or two. xD Regardless, I hope you'll find something you'll like. :)





	1. Unsuccessfully coping with the natural beauty of jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> This was a response to "jealousy isn't cute on you" sentence starter for CLeon.

* * *

 

”For the last time, Leon, I’m not your lawyer, you should stop calling me when you’re thrown in jail,” Hunnigan said as she waited for him to collect his things so that they could exit the jailhouse.

“I’m sure your cat will forgive you for leaving him alone for twenty minutes despite it being a Friday night,” Leon remarked a little more venomously than he’d intended to. Hunnigan stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him and he sighed, meaning to apologize but she spoke before he had a chance.

“You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” Hunnigan said before crossing the parking lot with long agitated strides.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean..!” he called out after her, but she was already gone, driving away and leaving him to find his own way home.

“Ah, shit,” Leon exhaled and stuck his hands into his pockets, beginning the long walk home. His drunken state was wearing off and he was slipping from impervious to becoming painfully aware of how much his knuckles hurt. They rarely showed that side of this situation in movies. The lack of the massive punch-sound effect in real life was also disappointing.

When Leon finally got home, he was surprised to see that Claire was _not_ already packing his things into suitcases, or frantically throwing everything out into the yard and pouring gasoline on it. Instead, she sat on the couch in the living room and when she saw him, she turned the TV off and slowly crossed her arms over her abdomen while narrowing her eyes at him. It was a feminine but an oddly threatening gesture.

“You’ll be glad to know that Neil decided not to press charges,” Claire told him.  
“Well, remind me to send him a thank you-card,” Leon said, spread his hands to the sides a little and took a series of tiny “I’m not worthy”-bows before going to the kitchen to grab a beer.

“Stop it, Leon, this is serious!” Claire said, got up and followed him. She grabbed the beer from his hand while he was in the middle of taking a sip. Some of it spilled onto his chin and dripped to the floor as the contents of the bottle foamed over as she yanked the bottle suddenly, but she didn’t care.

“What the hell?” Leon frowned as Claire tossed the bottle into the sink and leaned in closer to him, her finger pointing into his chest.

“Do you even understand what the hell you did?” she snapped at him.  
“Yes, and that dipshit had it coming!”

“Why? What did he do? Did he remark on my tits or ass? Make lewd comment about what he’d like to do to me? What?” she demanded.  
“Well, yes, to all of it, basically!”

“Well, welcome to my world, I hear shit like that every day, it’s called being a woman. But I don’t go apeshit and beat up every idiot who makes remarks like that.”  
“I bet you’d want to though.”

“Yes, but that isn’t the point!” Claire yelled in exasperation and shoved at him, turning to face away with her hands on her hips, shaking her head in disbelief.  
“Then tell me what is the point,” Leon said, rubbing his palm over the spot on his chest where she’d poked him.

“The point is that I don’t _need_ nor do I _want_ you to turn up and pretend to be some white knight who rescues me from the  lewd remarks someone makes, I don’t want that! If I need to, I can stand up for myself, and most of the time, I’d rather just ignore them,” she scoffed.

“Or, maybe you don’t mind the comments since they came from him.”  
“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying that it’s usually called sexual harassment only when the guy making the remarks is unattractive, but bring out a douchebag in a chinstrap and suddenly it’s called flirting,” Leon said, his tone of voice the typical tone you’d hear from a child making the common “nya-nya”-taunt. Claire blinked slowly, her mouth slightly open as she tried to comprehend that Leon out of all people was behaving the way he was right now.

“Jealousy isn’t cute on you.”  
“Good, because I’m not trying to be cute!”

“Seriously, do you hear yourself… like… right now… when you’re talking… do you hear the words coming out of your mouth, do you understand how ridiculous you sound?” Claire asked, speaking intentionally slowly as if indeed talking to a child.

“Mock all you want, but you know I’m right.”  
“I am not getting into this argument with you,” Claire sighed in exasperation.

“There is no argument because I’m right!”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. Go take a shower and try to sleep it off. On the couch,” Claire said in an icy tone over her shoulder as she left the kitchen and headed upstairs, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her so hard the glasses in the kitchen cupboard clinked.

Leon grabbed another beer now that Claire wasn’t there to throw it out, and then proceeded to the living room, slumping onto the couch. Why should he be the one sleeping on the couch, it was his house too, damn it.

_Yeah, but then again, I’m the jerk who beat up Claire’s boss… but for a good reason… even if she denies it…_

He wasn’t sure what part of him thought this could possibly be a good idea, but he was already doing before even realizing; he dialed Hunnigan’s number. He had a question he wanted her to answer.

“Oh, my God, what!” she yelled at him as she accepted the video call.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“You should be. For various reasons.”

“Your towels are so fluffy! Why can’t I get mine— oh, sorry, who you talkin’ to?” a woman wearing nothing but a towel and a green necklace inquired as she walked across the frame, Leon getting  a decent view of her figure but not her face before Hunnigan turned the phone so that he could see nothing but the ceiling.

“The reason I had to run out in the middle of dinner,” Hunnigan responded.

“Tell him he’s a dick,” the other female voice said.  
“You’re a dick,” Hunnigan dutifully relayed the message.

“That was actually all I needed to hear because the reason I called was to ask you if I’m a dick,” Leon said.  
“I’m amazed you thought there would be any other answer to that question. Good night,” Hunnigan retorted and ended the call.

“Well, whaddaya know, she _did_ have a date,” he chuckled at the dial tone.

“Aw, fuck,” he then sighed and leaned back on the couch. He finished his beer in a few long gulps before heading into the bathroom to take that shower Claire had told him to take. Instead of feeling relaxed as the hot water washed away his mood, he was fuming.

_I am_ not _sleeping on the couch._

Once done drying off, he went upstairs and slowly pushed the bedroom door open. He waited for a moment for his eyes to adjust to the deep blue darkness in the room and was half expecting to find Claire sitting on the bed with a shotgun aimed at him. Instead, she lay down, the covers pulled to her shoulder, hugging his pillow to her chest. Once upon a time she’d told him she’d begun to playfully refer to the pillow as Scott since she had a habit of cuddling it while he was away because it smelled of him.

_You are so adorable it makes my chest ache,_ he thought, a small rueful smile on his lips. He got into bed and lay on his side, resting his weight on his forearm as he leaned a little closer to her.

“Claire… can I have my pillow back, please?” he whispered.  
“You’re not even supposed to be here,” she humphed and pulled as far from him as she possibly could without falling off the bed.

“Look, I’m sorry. I overreacted, and you’re right, you don’t need me to rescue you, I know that… but at the same time, there’s a part of me that thinks… that you’re my girl and that I should beat the living shit out of anyone who disrespects you. I know it’s not as charming in real life as it is in movies, but…”

“Oh, so you were just defending my honor. Well, that makes it all better.”  
“I’m not saying it does, I’m just saying that’s what happened. Hearing him talk that way about you made me go a little a crazy.”

“What did he even say?” Claire then asked, finally turning to face Leon and he cleared his throat awkwardly.  
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable repeating that.”

“In other words he didn’t say anything _that_ bad, you just blew it out of proportion,” Claire said, quirking an eyebrow and Leon inhaled and exhaled deeply.  
“He was staring at your ass and said ‘Damn, I’d like to cut that cake’.”

“That’s it?” Claire scoffed and Leon shrugged one shoulder. Hell, she’d heard worse in third grade.

“You are such a… I don’t even know what you are,” she shook her head and smacked him with the pillow.  
“I know, I know… I’m sorry. I really am,” he said sincerely and put the pillow aside as she settled to lay on her back and sighed deeply as if trying to decide what to do with him.

“You’re a good man, Leon, but sometimes you do the dumbest things for the stupidest little reasons. I really need you to work on that or I don’t see how we’re ever gonna make this work,” she muttered.  
“I understand, and I promise to work on it.”

“…all right,” Claire said quietly, a hint of disbelief in her voice, clearly she wasn’t going to believe it until she’d see it. Leon felt a bit hurt by the obvious mistrust, but at the same time he took it as an incentive to prove to her that he could and _would_ do it.

“All right,” he said as well and finally lay down as well. They remained silent in the dim room for a long while and Leon was sure Claire had already fallen asleep when she finally reached over and put her arm over his midsection, pushing herself tightly against him. He raised his arm a little and put it around her shoulders, pulling her closer in the sweetheart’s cradle and pressed a long soft kiss onto her forehead before resting his cheek against the top of her head. He closed his eyes and exhaled happily when he felt her breath on the side of his neck.

“Hey, Claire?”  
“Yes, Leon?”

“Hunnigan’s girlfriend called me a dick.”  
“Oh, poor you. Do you need me to defend your honor by kicking her ass?"

“No, but am I dick?”  
“Yeah, but you’re my dick.”

“…I can live with that.”

***


	2. Physical therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A response to a prompt "Just sit down and let me take care of you Chris and Rebecca". Takes place around the hotel scene in Vendetta. Sorry, not sure about how accurate this is with the details I’m mentioning regarding the movie, I’ve only seen it once. Also I’m ignoring “Biohazard the stage” because I know next to nothing of it other than the spine of the plot.

 

_RE Vendetta/Family Guy_

* * *

 

“Wow, what service,” Rebecca remarked happily, her eyebrow quirked when she discovered Chris at the door to her hotel room. He was holding two cardboard mugs (with both of their names spelled wrong, how that was even possible was beyond Rebecca, or “Repecka” as she was named according to her mug) and smiled sweetly.

“Ah, you know me, I’m big but well-mannered,” he said as she stepped aside to allow him in and closed the door behind him.  
“I also know a saying… the bigger the man, the smaller the manhood.”

“Hah!” Chris guffawed, “Whoever came up with that must’ve been a tiny fellow. Like a chihuahua, what he lacked in size, he made up for in viciousness,” he grinned and handed her the mug.  
“I’m sure you’re right,” Rebecca smirked and took a sip. The coffee was nowhere near sweet enough for her liking, but she didn’t let it show; he couldn’t have known and he’d meant well.

“Ah, damn it,” she then hissed when a jolt of pain lanced through the side of her neck and spread in a hot whiplash all the way up to her scalp.  
“What happened?” Chris frowned.

“It’s nothing, I just have this neck pain… or it’s not really my neck that hurts, it’s my head, but I think the reason for it is my neck. That’s what I get for sitting at a computer all day,” Rebecca dismissed and brought her hand to squeeze her neck as she tried stretching her neck and rolled her shoulder a little. The muffled pops and cracks she heard from her joints made her feel a little grossed out.

“Maybe I can help.”  
“Oh? Are you a physical therapist now too?” she teased and he chuckled.

“No, but I see one on a weekly basis, so I’ve picked up some tips and tricks.”  
“It’s okay, you don’t need to…”

“Come on. Just sit down and let me take care of you,” he said and she sighed, shrugging a little and gave in. He moved to stand behind her and squeezed her shoulders a couple of times before running his hands over her shoulder blades, giving her a quick rub down to “warm up” before settling his hands on the base of her neck and driving his thumbs into the trapezius muscles.

“Ow, geez,” Rebecca exclaimed when she felt a twinge on the top of her head when he pressed on a spot in her neck.  
“Am I being too rough?”

“No, it’s just… I didn’t realize there was a connection between there and the top of my head,” she muttered through clenched teeth as she tried to tolerate the pressure. In all honesty, she would’ve appreciated a lighter touch, but at the same time, she doubted a little tickling would help.

“You’d be surprised if you knew what exactly connects where. I once had this ridiculous feeling of pressure in my head and for a while there, I thought I had an ear infection or a brain tumor or something. Turns out my traps were tense near my shoulder blade and they were pinching on a nerve that reaches all the way to the face and head. Never would’ve made the connection,” he said.

“That’s what I have,” Rebecca said when she realized she shared the same symptoms.

“Really? Well, then I know how to fix it,” he chuckled and ran his fingers down along the sides of her shoulder blades, slowly traveling lower, pausing along the way to dig his thumbs deeper into certain spots and waited to see if Rebecca would react.  
“Right there,” she grunted when he hit the spot and moved to grip her shoulder with his right hand and pressed the ball of his left hand over the area and began to slowly massage it.

“This would be easier if you were lying down,” he remarked and she scoffed amusedly.  
“I should’ve known you’d say that at some point.”

“Simply stating a fact,” Chris said innocently.  
“Fine, but I’m keeping my shirt on,” Rebecca said and moved onto the bed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiled.

_Oh, boy, okay…_ Rebecca sighed internally when she felt the mattress give in underneath his weight as he settled to straddle the backs of her thighs and leaned forward to knead the muscles on her back.

“You know, you could prevent this if you did some exercises during your work day.”  
“What, like push ups? Yeah, that wouldn’t look ridiculous at all,” Rebecca mumbled into the pillow, her voice thick with sarcasm.

“I meant more like get one of those rubber bands and do some stretches with it every now and then, but push ups aren’t a bad idea either,” Chris said, his smile audible in his voice.  
“Oh, right there,” she suddenly hissed through clenched teeth and he paused at the spot he’d been working on, focusing on the side of her shoulder blade.

“Does it hurt?”  
“Yes, but it’s a good hurt.”

“Okay, but just tell me if I’m using too much force, I don’t want to leave you sorer than you were before,” Chris said and Rebecca chuckled quietly. If someone were to hear their conversation and take it out of context, it might sound a little suggestive. Chris didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t make it obvious.

_Same old Chris,_ she mused. He had always been the oblivious type, dedicated to his work with such intensity it was as if he was wearing a pair of blinders preventing him from getting distracted by anything, allowing him to keep his focus solely on the goal right in front of him; the goal always having been the same.

While Rebecca was no stranger to dedicating a lot of time and effort to her work, she knew to take a break now and then. Chris had never known when to quit, in good or in bad. She couldn’t help but think it had to be a lonely existence.

“Hm, you’re gonna have to stop or I’ll fall asleep,” she mumbled then.  
“Well, I don’t think that would be a bad thing, you were supposed to be resting in the first place,” he reminded her, his touch lighter now, almost a mere caress.

“I know, but falling asleep this early would mess up my rhythm. Thank you, I do feel better,” she then protested a little and began to get up.  
“All right, but I want you to promise me you won’t stay up all night working,” Chris said and got up.

“Yes, sir,” she said dutifully and smiled. “I could use a little bit of fresh air,” she then said, opened the door to the balcony and stepped out.  
“And I could use a smoke break,” Chris seized his opportunity and dug out a pack from his pocket.

“I thought you’d given up,” Rebecca said, crossing her arms over her abdomen and gave him a scolding look. “It’ll stunt your growth,” she added and Chris burst out laughing.  
“I’ll take my chances,” he said and raised his arm a little, pretending to use Rebecca as an armrest for a while to exaggerate their height difference.

“Haw-haw,” she commented dryly at his antics. “So, what is this expert we’re going to meet like?” she then asked, leaning her side to the railing.  
“Well, we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but he’s one of the good guys,” Chris assured and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “He’s hit a bit of rough patch, so it might take some convincing, but we’ll get there.”

Once he was done with his cigarette, he put it out in his coffee mug which was still half full of coffee that had gone cold long ago.

“I should get out of your hair, let you get some sleep,” Chris said as they went back into the room.  
“You don’t… have to,” Rebecca said, “I wouldn’t mind the company to be honest.”

Chris nodded slowly. He didn’t think she was scared to sleep alone, she’d never been one to scare easily, she was a lot tougher than she looked. But that said, as far as he knew, she’d lived a pretty normal life since everything that’d happened in Raccoon City. He doubted she had the need let alone the desire to think back on that incident, and she usually worked as an advisor, not a field agent. Maybe the recent attack had brought back some bad memories.

He didn’t blame her for not wanting to be alone right now. Come to think of it, he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d _not_ been alone either.

“Uhm… well, I mean… the bed _does_ look more comfortable than the bunk at the B.S.A.A. mobile unit,” he mumbled into his palm as he ran his hand over his mouth, his unshaven cheeks and chin making a quiet scratching sound as he did so.  
“It’s settled then. Now, brush your teeth and get ready to for bed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he saluted her dutifully.

A few minutes later, they lay in bed, Chris on his side with his right arm tucked under the pillow for extra support, Rebecca in front of him with her back to him. She scooted closer, reaching behind her and grabbed Chris’s wrist and pulled his arm around herself.

“This is not an invitation for more than sleep, just so you know.”  
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I told you, I’m big, but well-mannered,” Chris assured with a smile and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“That you are, Chris. That you are.”

***


	3. Laundry service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "is that my shirt?" sentence starter for Claire x Leon

Leon felt it was bit ridiculous to keep his relationship with Claire a secret from the protective big brother… but then again, he _was_ a protective big brother. While Leon didn’t expect Chris to genuinely protest the relationship or chase Leon out of the house with a shotgun, he could see why Claire had rather not told him. It wasn’t like it caused a huge hassle in their daily lives, Chris was rarely at the house and Leon and Claire had the option to go to his apartment, but Claire usually preferred staying at her place.

Mostly because Leon didn’t even have a proper bed, he slept on the couch and if she came over, she’d spend the night wedged between him and the backrest of the couch. Not that she minded being close, but she didn’t appreciate waking with a numb arm after having slept on it the entire night because there was no room to move around.

Leon had hoped to make it out of the house before Chris would come back, but apparently Chris had decided to come back two days early.

Leon closed the fridge door and almost dropped the leftovers he’d scavenged when he realized he was staring into the barrel of Chris’s Samurai Edge.

“Leon!” he exclaimed and lowered the gun. “I thought you were a burglar.”

“Really, Chris, would a burglar rummage through your fridge in his underwear?” Leon scoffed amusedly, opened the container and grabbed a fork, casually beginning to eat the leftovers from dinner.

“No, he would not, which begs the question, what the hell are you doing here in nothing but your underwear? Wait… is that my shirt?” Chris exclaimed, sounding genuinely offended by the mere possibility.

“Uh, I… guess it could be your shirt?” Leon stammered and glanced at the item of clothing he was wearing. He’d just haphazardly grabbed something in the dark, only now realizing it couldn’t be his own because Claire was sleeping in it right at this moment.

The front of the shirt read “BSAA GOLDENBOY”, a birthday gift from Claire from a couple of years back, and it was obviously too big for Leon.

“Give me that!” Chris said annoyedly, held out his arm and wiggled his fingers as he expected Leon to immediately return the shirt.

 _Geez, if he’s this possessive about a shirt, imagine what he’ll do to me when he realizes I’m sleeping with his sister… I’m beginning to see why she wanted to keep it a secret,_ Leon mused as he pulled the shirt over his head and gave it back to the rightful owner.

“Of course, you realize this means war,” Chris then told him.  
“I bet you say that to all of Claire’s boyfriends,” Leon quipped and Chris narrowed his eyes at him.

“Chris, leave him alone,” Claire’s voice came from the door.  
“He was wearing my shirt,” Chris pouted.

“Well, maybe if you’d do your own laundry instead of tossing your clothes in with mine thinking I don’t notice things like that wouldn’t happen,” Claire quirked an eyebrow and paused to stand next to Leon, grabbed the food and his fork from him and then turned on her heel, heading back upstairs as if nothing had happened.  Leon cleared his throat a little awkwardly and was about to follow her when Chris grabbed his face. He would’ve grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him off the floor had Leon been wearing one.

“Now, listen here, you little shit,” Chris began through clenched teeth, “if you ever do anything to hurt her, I will end you, painfully. Are we clear?”  
“Chrystal,” Leon grunted.

“Well, all right then. Good night,” Chris said, let go of him and grabbed a beer, heading into the living room, leaving behind a very confused Leon Kennedy. A few moments later, he entered Claire’s bedroom, closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling deeply.

“That was intense.”  
“Did my big brother scare you?” Claire taunted as she went to him, reaching to wrap her arms around his midsection.

“You gotta admit he is intimidating when he wants to be,” Leon said and gave in when Claire nudged them back toward the bed. She straddled his thighs and wrapped her legs around him, leaning to give him a long deep kiss.

“Oh, Leon, yes!” she then exclaimed unnecessarily loudly as she broke the kiss.  
“What are you doing?” Leon asked, his voice a little terrified.

“Right there!” Claire yelled and Leon barely resisted the urge to cover her mouth with his hand.  
“Jesus, Claire, don’t do that, don’t even joke about it!” he hissed and Claire chuckled.

“You’re adorable,” she said and kissed him again before hugging him tightly and nuzzling into the spot between his neck and shoulder.  
“You think I’m adorable when I’m terrified?” Leon scoffed amusedly and mirrored her position, running his hands along her back in a gentle caress.

“Yes, but you can calm down, he’s not going to do anything because he knows that if he does, _I_ will end _him_.”  
“Well, I always did have a feeling that you were the more dangerous one out of the two of you…”

“You know it.”

***


	4. The taming of the shrew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "Is there any reason as to why you're getting drunk on a Tuesday afternoon for Leon and Hunnigan" sentence starter.  
> A very merry Resident Evil version of Shakespeare’s "The Taming of the shrew". I’m joking, there’s too much feminism in this for that to be true. xD Leon and Hunnigan might be a tad out of character, but I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you'll enjoy the story. :)

Leon walked down the steps leading to the small Irish pub he liked to frequent and paused at the bottom of the stairs. He had to stare for a moment to be sure he was seeing right, but there was no doubt. The perfectly starched collar of the white shirt peeking from underneath the black jacket was a dead giveaway alone, he would’ve recognized it anywhere because he couldn’t count the times he’d been tempted to stick his finger into the back of the collar and tug on it. He didn’t know why he wanted to do that, he just did. He’d never dared to though, but today could be a good day for that.

He made his approach and was about to go ahead when the woman sitting at the bar turned her head to the side.

“Don’t even think about it.”  
“How’d you know it was me?” Leon asked and took a seat next to her, waving at the bartender.

“We happen to be sitting opposite of a mirror, genius,” Hunnigan rolled her eyes at him.

“And here we go with the attitude. I bet this is why you’re single,” he smirked, instructed the bartender to leave the bottle and downed the first shot of whiskey he’d already poured for Leon.

“If I don’t point out the stupid things you say and do, you will go through life without realizing how idiotic you can be, I’m doing you a favor,” Hunnigan commented and took a sip of her rum and coke.

“Is there a reason as to why you’re getting drunk on a Tuesday afternoon?” Leon then asked, turning to face her and leaned his side to the bar.

“I could ask you the same thing.”  
“I asked you first,” he said and rested his head against his palm.

“I’m celebrating.”

“Oh, God, getting a full answer from you is like pulling teeth,” he muttered, refilled his glass and took another shot. “What are you celebrating?”

“My divorce becoming final, at last. It took forever because the jerk refused to sign the papers.”

“I didn’t even know you were married.”  
“And why would you have known?” Hunnigan shrugged and finished her drink.

“I don’t know, I’ve been under the impression that we’re friends, but I realize you are difficult to befriend. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more impossible woman, and that’s saying something considering I seem to attract the impossible-type,” Leon chuckled and offered her a shot from his bottle. She glanced at him filling her glass but didn’t comment or outright refuse either.

“So, how long were you together, why’d you divorce, how many kids?” he questioned and she hung her head in defeat. Apparently, he was determined to get to know everything about her and she’d be better off just telling him because he would keep pestering her if she didn’t.

“About four years, divorced because he’s a narcissistic misogynist, and two.”  
“Really, you have two kids?” Leon’s eyes widened.

“No, I just wanted to see the look on your face if I said that,” Hunnigan said and from her flat deadpan tone, he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, but considering she was at a bar at four P.M. on a Tuesday, he figured she hadn’t been vexing him.

“Well, either way, congratulations on your divorce. Now that you’re free of that, what are my chances of bedding you?” he inquired and she scoffed, turning to face him. She put her hand over his forearm and leaned closer, looking him in the eyes.

“Leon… only in the interest of renewing mankind would I ever sleep with you.”  
“You’re a cold, merciless woman, Ingrid Hunnigan, did you know that?”

“What can I say, obviously I’m a mean drunk,” she shrugged and drank from the glass, to Leon’s surprise not making a face at the taste of the raw whiskey or doing that whole hissing breath-thing people tended to do.  
“And let’s see how warm and kind you’d be if you’d had to go through the shit I have gone through.”

“Well, I mean, I have some idea of having a tough life,” he smirked but she shook her head.

“No, you don’t have a damn clue what it has taken me to get where I am today. I’ve had to fight for everything just because my reproductive organs happen to be on the inside of my body, I can’t tell you how many damn times I’ve heard the phrase ‘Is there someone from the military we could talk to, a man perhaps?’ You have no idea what it’s like having everything you do questioned only because of your gender. I’m more qualified to do the things I do than ten men put together, but no, the old guys in charge react only when another male repeats the things I’ve said.”

“Okay, you’re right about that, I don’t know what that is like.”  
“Maybe once female sperm becomes a common thing and it’s made obvious that men have become obsolete, you’ll start behaving like decent human beings.”

“Okay, firstly, female sperm? That cannot be a thing.”  
“Look it up if you don’t believe me, I’m not your personal Google.”

“…secondly, spoken like a true feminazi-lesbian,” he taunted and Hunnigan laughed.

“I am not a lesbian. Don’t get me wrong, I often wish I were! Alas, contrary to what a lot of idiots seem to believe, I can’t just wake up in the morning and choose that today I shall enjoy fondling another’s woman’s breasts,” Hunnigan said and took another sip.

“And for the record…”  
“Wait, wait, I’m still enjoying the mental image of you fondling another woman’s breasts,” Leon interrupted, his eyes closed.

“Anyone in particular?” Hunnigan smirked.  
“You and Helena would look good together…” he murmured.

“Well, you’re not wrong. All right, knock it off,” she then scoffed and slapped his shoulder softly.  
“All right, all right, you were saying?” he asked and sat up straight.

“I was saying that I’m not a feminazi either, I’m a feminist in the original meaning of the word, as in I want there to be equality between men and women. I don’t go around screaming that all straight sex is rape and that men should be put to death at birth, or ‘how about _you_ make _me_ a sandwich, Mister Man’.”

“Would you ever make _me_ a sandwich?” Leon asked with a smile.  
“Not if you’d _tell_ me to do it in a condescending manner which implies I should be serving you just because you’re a man. If you asked me to and I felt like doing it for you, then sure.”

“That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” Leon sighed happily and she chuckled.  
“Yeah, well, don’t tell the rabid feminazi hordes I said that, or they’ll execute me as a traitor.”

“I’ll trade my silence for a sandwich and a sincere compliment from you.”  
“I hate you so much right now, Leon.”

“No, you don’t, you think I’m adorable, and by the time we’re finished with this bottle, you’re gonna want to take me home and make me a sandwich and say something nice about me.”  
“Unless you’ve slipped roofies into my drink, I seriously doubt that’ll happen.”

* * *

Hunnigan woke up, slowly becoming aware of the warm body pressed against her back as he spooned her, Leon’s chin resting on the top of her head, his arm around her and his forearm tucked snugly between her breasts, his palm flat against her collarbone and her fingers entwined with his; a position they’d evidently fallen asleep in while cuddling last night. She untangled her fingers from his, gripped his wrist and slowly and carefully lifted his arm so that she could get up without waking him.

She went to take a shower and when she entered the bathroom and glanced at herself in the mirror, she noticed the ridiculously big hickey on the side of her neck.

“Oh, for the love of God,” she groaned and stepped into the shower. When she got out about fifteen minutes later in her bathrobe, she saw Leon sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” he said when he saw her.  
“Excuse me?” Hunnigan chuckled.

“I wasn’t sure who I’d ended up with, I’m not always exactly picky, so I’m glad it was you.”  
“How flattering,” Hunnigan commented, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she crossed her arms over her abdomen.

“No, hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just… okay, can I start over?” Leon asked and stood up slowly, taking a step toward her and reaching to put his hands over the sides of her arms.  
“Whatever, Leon,” she grumbled and was about to move but he held on tighter.

“No, listen. What I meant was… I’m glad it was you and not someone I would regret being with,” he said softly.  
“That’s a little better,” she shrugged and went to the kitchen and Leon sighed, hanging his head a little before following her.

“How do you like your sandwiches?” she smirked as she paused in front of the counter in the kitchen and he moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her midsection.  
“Mayo, no mustard,” he mumbled into her hair as he nuzzled the back of her head for a moment before resting his chin on her shoulder. “You smell good.”

“Thank you,” she said and turned her head to the side to be able to glance over at him. “This would be easier if I could move without you glued to my back.”

“But I like being glued to your back,” Leon complained and rubbed his cheek against hers, his stubble scratching her skin. She chuckled and exhaled deeply, having to admit she quite enjoyed the feel of his arms around her and the roughness of his unshaven face. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt that way.

“I’m still not entirely convinced that you _didn’t_ slip me roofies,” she commented as she gathered the supplies she’d need to make the sandwich she’d promised him before.  
“I wouldn’t dare,” Leon scoffed amusedly. “And I just remembered you still owe me that compliment,” he then reminded her and she sighed. She finished making the sandwich and handed it to him.

“I’m waiting,” he teased and took a bite. It was delicious. Then again, weren’t sandwiches always when someone else had made them.

“You have the most beautiful penis I have ever seen,” she complimented and he inhaled the piece of bread he’d been chewing, and Hunnigan could’ve sworn she saw him actually blush a little.

“Well, that’s, uhm… that’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he then laughed softly. She smiled, but didn’t comment. Instead, she headed back into the bedroom to get dressed. Leon finished his sandwich and followed her example, only he needed to gather his clothes from the floor, a trail of them leading from the front door to the bedroom door.

“So… what happens now?” he inquired, still buttoning up his shirt when Hunnigan emerged from the bedroom, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, running her hand through her still wet hair and ruffling it a little.  
“What do you mean?” she frowned.

“Well, I just…” he trailed off, pausing to consider his words and scratched his chin awkwardly. “That was a really good sandwich and I wouldn’t mind having another one in the future, if you know what I mean,” he grinned then.

“To what end, Leon?” she quirked an eyebrow and he shrugged slowly.  
“I don’t know. I’m not ruling out things like marriage and a lot of little Leon Juniors running around. Unless that female sperm-thing you mentioned becomes a popular thing, then there might be a couple of Helena Juniors in the mix too,” he grinned and Hunnigan guffawed at that.

“You’re a ridiculous man, Leon. Never gonna happen.”  
“And as I recall, you also recently said you’d never take me home and make me a sandwich, but here we are.”

“Hey, it took you a decade to get this far, by the time I ever agree to marriage and children with you, I’ll be too old to have kids,” Hunnigan smirked.  
“You know, when you first rejected me, I told myself ‘She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s wifey right there’,” Leon sighed happily.

“Puh-leeze, like I’d ever get married again, I only just got rid of the last husband.”  
“Yeah, but you know, one fucked up marriage doesn’t mean they’ll all be like that.”

“Unless you’re seriously trying to propose to me right now, I see no point in continuing this conversation,” she rolled her eyes at him.  
“Look, basically what I’m saying is that I really want to see you again, and what happens after that or where it’ll end up will remain to be seen, but I’d want to at least find out,” Leon explained seriously.

“If I promise to think about it, will you go home?” she smirked and he chuckled, the shake of his head slowly turning into a nod.  
“Thank you for the sandwich and the lovely compliment, and I’ll see you at work,” he grinned and exited the apartment.

* * *

“Damn your beautiful face, your beautiful hair, and your beautiful penis,” Hunnigan muttered and Leon doubled over, laughing hard.  
“You didn’t have to say yes,” he reminded her, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes as he slowly stood back up straight and slid the keycard into the reader to unlock the door.

“I don’t know, I mean, I kind of feel like I did, because you somehow made me believe it was what I wanted.”  
“Are you seriously accusing me of manipulating you? Because we both know you’re way too smart for me to be able to pull off something like that.”

“Nice try,” she smirked.  
“See? No way I could’ve tricked you into this, ergo you wanted this too, end of discussion,” he smirked back and pushed the door open. When she was about to step in, he put his arm in front of her to stop her.

“Whoa-whoa-whoa, hold on a minute, I’m supposed to carry you.”  
“Do you even know why people do that?” Hunnigan sighed.

“No, but I’m sure you will tell me and finish by explaining why it’s a stupid superstitious tradition that doesn’t even make sense anymore, and then I’m gonna carry you over the threshold anyway.”

“Actually, there are a lot of stupid beliefs regarding it, one of them being that the woman might trip while stepping over the threshold and that would bring bad luck into the marriage, and of course the husband is immune to such things, he’s a man after all,” Hunnigan began and Leon blew out a breath slowly, finding it ironic that he was the one being lectured and nagged at about three hours after the wedding but still, _she_ was the one having doubts about the whole marriage.

“But I think that generally it symbolizes the times when it was perfectly okay to kidnap women and drag them kicking and screaming over the threshold into your house and just decide they’re yours now.”

“Okay, Hunny-Bunny?” Leon interrupted, using the nickname he knew she hated. “I am going to carry you over this threshold, not because I consider you my property or such nonsense, but because I’ve always wanted to do that. If you want to uphold traditions, feel free to kick and scream, but this is happening,” he grinned and without missing a beat picked her off the floor.

She didn’t kick or scream. As usual when she found herself butting heads with Leon over things like this, she discovered that she actually enjoyed doing the thing she’d so adamantly protested to until Leon had talked her into it (or occasionally –like now— just gone and done it anyway). She both loved and hated him for having that strong an effect on her.

“Fine, but we’re _not_ spending the honeymoon trying to conceive, as is tradition,” she remarked, her eyebrows lowering into a look of defiance and disapproval. He chuckled as he carried her across the hotel room and lowered her onto the bed.

“Are you listening to me?”  
“Yes, darling,” Leon responded dutifully and smiled, leaning to kiss her and slowly settled to lie ontop of her, resting his weight on his elbows.

“Good, because we’re _not_ having kids,” Hunnigan stated.

“No, of course we’re not, just like we didn’t get married either,” he grinned at her, silenced her with another kiss and broke it shortly to trail his lips along her jawline and down to the side of her neck as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and exhaled deeply when he enclosed his lips around her earlobe.

“I hate you,” she breathed and he chuckled quietly before taking a moment to softly blow into her ear, knowing it was her weak spot. She inhaled sharply and her back arched a little at that.  
“I know. I love you,” he whispered, and she could hear his smile, unable to keep from smiling herself when she had to admit she did really love him too. 

* * *

“Oh, wow, when are you due?” Helena asked when she finally had a chance to meet Hunnigan in person for the first time in a while and noticed the rather impressive belly on the other woman.  
“In two weeks. But with my luck it’ll be more like four and I’ll get to spend Christmas giving birth,” Hunnigan sighed and shouldered her laptop bag as she got ready to leave the office.

“Is it a boy or a girl, do you know?”  
“A girl,” Hunnigan replied and grunted. “A girl who should stop kicking me,” she then said, directing her words to her belly.

“She’s doing laps,” Helena chuckled.  
“That’s certainly what it feels like,” Hunnigan laughed as well as they walked along the long hallway toward the elevators.

“Have you guys decided on a name yet?”  
“Leon wants to name her Leona Rae, because that would be the combination of his first name and my middle name.”

“From your tone of voice, I take it you don’t agree,” Helena chuckled.  
“Well, it’s just... you know, Leon, Leona... they’re too similar. I’ll talk him out of it eventually.”

“I bet he’s excited about the baby, though.”  
“Very much so, until he read some whiny dad’s complaints about how fatherhood ruined his neck and back because he has to spend so much time looking downward as he reads to his kids or answers their questions or picks them up,” Hunnigan rolled her eyes and Helena scoffed.

“What does that dude think the mothers have to endure?”  
“I know, right? Like... Jesus, how do you even have the balls to complain about that like it’s only happening to you.”

“Well, I’m sure Leon will get over it. He seems like the kind of a guy who would be a good father,” Helena said and stepped into the elevator with Hunnigan.  
“You’re right. I’m still kind of trying to wrap my head around everything, it’s been a crazy couple of years.”

“I can’t even imagine. But as long as you two are happy, does it matter how you ended up where you are?” Helena reasoned and Hunnigan smiled.  
“You’re right. It doesn’t matter, we’re here now and we are happy.”

* * *

“Leona Rae Kennedy, you get down here this instant and clean up this mess!” Hunnigan yelled at the bottom of the stairs, doing the “call the child by their full name”-thing mothers tended to do when they were angry about something. Hunnigan hadn’t even realized she’d done it until she could practically hear her own mother’s voice calling out to her that one time she’d been a child and broken a window and ran away from the scene without telling anyone.

Leon walked in and frowned at the sight of his wife standing there with her hands angrily on her hips, staring upstairs. Obviously their three year old had been up to no good.

“What’s happening?” he frowned and paused to stand next to her and Hunnigan was about to respond when their daughter finally responded from upstairs.

“No! You’ll yell at me!”  
“I’m already yelling at you!”

“Hun, what did she do?” Leon interrupted the screaming contest and Hunnigan sighed.  
“Two dozen eggs thrown in the living room, she’s egging our house from within!” she scoffed at him.

“All right, okay, let’s just... calm down. I’ll talk to her and we’ll clean it up, okay?”

When Leon finally managed to coax their daughter downstairs, Hunnigan crouched down and took the child’s hands into her own.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry that I yelled at you, I didn’t mean to get so upset. But, in the future, no more throwing eggs, all right?”

“I didn’t know, you hadn’t told me not to!” the girl argued and Leon barely stifled a chuckle, as did Hunnigan. It was too obvious this girl was her and Leon’s child; there was fiery defiance and nonchalant refusal to accept blame inherited and learned from both of them.

“You know what, you’re right, I hadn’t,” Hunnigan nodded, “but now you know, so you’ll know not to do it in the future, right?”  
“This is how I learn,” Leona agreed and Hunnigan chuckled softly.

“All right then, good,” she said and pulled the girl into a hug, peppering the side of her face with tiny kisses and the child giggled.

“Now, go with daddy and help him clean, all right?” Hunnigan then asked.  
“Oh and kay,” the girl said, using her own personal way of saying okay, and grabbed Leon’s hand, leading him into the living room and to the mess she’d made earlier.

Unsurprisingly, Leon turned the chore into a game and soon enough, the girl was practically fighting over getting to clean the wall. Once they were done, it was Leona’s bed time and Leon went to take her to bed. When he returned about twenty minutes later, he slumped onto the couch next to Hunnigan, only to realize he wouldn’t be getting a break; Hunnigan placed her feet into his lap and poked at his abdomen with her toes, the gesture by now having become a familiar ritual for them both.

“So, how was your day?” he asked with a grin as he gripped her foot and ran his thumb along the arch of it a few times before proceeding to massage the heel.  
“Almost productive, mostly fun. How was yours?”

“Pretty much the same. Oh, and while I was training this one female agent, she grabbed my junk, and I swear it wasn’t an accident.”  
“Oh, lucky you,” Hunnigan smirked, her tone sarcastic.

“You’re telling me, I mean I’ve always been the envy of all the other instructors at the DSO academy because I get to give lessons in close combat to pretty young things,” Leon trailed off, pretending to sigh dreamily and Hunnigan poked his chest with her toes again.

“I hope the pretty young things know they’re grabbing  at a married man who happens to be the father of two.”  
“Yeah, I don’t think they bother looking at whether I have a ri— wait, what? Two?” he stopped when Hunnigan’s words sunk in.

“Six weeks,” Hunnigan responded and patted her belly. A wide smile slowly spread on Leon’s lips and he turned, practically lunging at her and kissed her hard.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said after breaking the kiss with a resounding smack.  
“Mm, I’m still not convinced I can say the same about you, but you’re definitely in the top three best things that have ever happened to me,” she smirked.

“Knowing you, that is high praise and the best I could’ve hoped for anyway,” Leon chuckled happily.

 

***

 


	5. Say goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A response to "youre not alone. you never were. cleon"   
> Welp, this ended up angstier than I’d planned, but not all angst is bad angst. :D Takes place shortly after whatever happened just before RE: Vendetta-movie.

 “Leon...” Claire said quietly as she knocked on the bedroom door. He didn’t respond, but in all honesty, she hadn’t expected him to either. He hadn’t in the past three days, why should today be any different? She knocked again, waited for a moment and finally entered.

He was lying on his side on the bed, the covers pulled almost all the way over his head. The room was silent and dark, just like he was.

“Leon...” she spoke his name again softly and sat on the empty side of the bed; her side which she hadn’t used because she hadn’t been able to stand the cold shoulder... even if she knew it wasn’t how he meant it and not for her.

He’d been like this since he’d gotten back from his latest mission. A mission during which he’d lost his entire team. He was used to working alone, not taking responsibility for an entire team. He was the one in charge of them all, the one who was supposed to keep them safe and guide them, not the one who would get them killed. It didn’t matter that technically it hadn’t been his fault, the situation had been out of his hands.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, those being the first words he’d spoken to her in days.

“You don’t have to,” Claire whispered and reached to run her fingers through his hair. He exhaled deeply and turned his head a little, ever so slightly pushing  his face against her palm like a cat yearning for affection but too proud to admit he needed it.

“Yes I do, because if I don’t, who will? I’m alone here,” he mumbled and Claire sighed, moved closer to him on the bed and softly tugged on him. He gave in easily and turned, settling to rest his head on her thigh and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“You’re not alone. You never were,” she said and leaned down to kiss his temple gently.

“You think that because it’s different for you,” he argued, having the sense not to tell her that her work wasn’t worth as much because she arrived at the scene only after the worst was over. She was a rescuer, he was the fighter. He didn’t need to say as much, she knew what he meant and had he been feeling better, she might have argued with him over it, but decided now was not the time.

“I understand it feels hopeless and lonely at times, I do... we lose people, but think of all the lives we save,” Claire said. Leon got up and turned to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning his forearms to his thighs as he hung his head and shook it slowly.

“No,” he said hoarsely.

“No?” she repeated, frowning because she had no way of knowing what exactly he was referring to.

“I just... I can’t, I really can’t,” he said, stood up and began to get dressed.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Claire asked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he walked out of the room and into the foyer, reaching for his jacket hanging in the closet there.

“I have to be somewhere else for a while. I’m sorry, Claire. I just... I’m no good to you or anyone right now, I need to... just... be alone and clear my head,” he muttered as he shoved his arms into the sleeves.

That was a downright shitty excuse, she knew it. But as shitty as it was, she couldn’t deny it wasn’t true in his case. When the going got tough, Leon didn’t seek out a friend to talk to nor a lover into whose arms it would’ve been easy to drown himself and forget his sorrows. Not anymore.

Now it had become a game of crash and burn. He was said to be the strongest and bravest member of his team, but Claire knew the truth, and the truth was, he was just looking to die.  He didn’t have what it took to take his own life despite having contemplated on it more than once in the past, so now his mission was to get killed on the line of duty, because that was nowhere near as shameful as the obvious shortcut.

Claire knew all this, she had for a long time, but she just... she didn’t know what to say to it, what to do about it. She’d tried, but he’d shut her out or pretended everything was fine. She couldn’t get close to him, not regarding this matter, and that was simply because she was too different to understand him because unlike him, _she_ hadn’t given up.

She still had the fighting spirit, she was going on missions with the intent to defeat the enemy and save as many lives as she could. Leon was going on missions with the intent of bludgeoning his way through walls of enemies until he’d eventually run into the one who would finish him off, and that way he could say he’d literally died trying.

“Leon...”

_I love you._

“Yes..?”

_I love you too, but I don’t know what to do about it._

“...come back soon.”

***


	6. You're the one that I want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A response to "it's okay, i'm here, cleon"  
> Something short and sweet after the angst from the previous chapter. :D

Leon stared at the screen and his jaw dropped a little when he saw his own name appear on it.

“Next up: Leon and Claire” the notification declared and Claire got up, exclaiming excitedly while he groaned.

“Claire, I really don’t...”

“It’s okay, I’m here!” she interrupted his argument with the familiar gentle reassurance. He’d heard it from her more times than he could count and it had never failed to put his worries at ease... until right now. But this was so very different. Leon had never fully recovered from that time when he’d had to sing in front of the whole class when in fifth grade, but refusing to do so hadn’t been an option.

Apparently, refusing to sing now wasn’t an option either, Claire seemed determined to have him sing a duet with her. Then again, if he had to choose between Claire and his fifth grade music teacher, he would gladly sing with her... even if he didn’t really know how to sing.

“But I don’t even know the song!” Leon protested, but she’d already grabbed him by his arm and was dragging him toward the stage.

“You know the song, you just don’t know it until you hear it, now come on!” Claire dismissed and was already grabbing a mic, getting ready to start, ignoring his reluctance to participate.

When the intro of the song began to play, Leon _did_ recognize the tune, but he had no idea as to what the lyrics were. He awkwardly pulled the mic up to his mouth and only then cleared his throat, ensuring everyone at the karaoke bar heard that, and he blushed a little. Claire just softly jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, silently encouraging him to just go for it.

He inhaled deeply and sang, quietly and softly, in a very shy “I hope no one hears me”- manner, and... unfortunately... entirely off-key and his timing was horrible too because he obviously wasn’t familiar with how the rhythm of the song flowed.

“Wait, which one am I? Am I the blue or the red?” he then muttered into Claire’s ear once the opening verse of “You’re the one that I want” from _Grease_ was over and Claire chuckled silently, glad he’d had the common sense to keep the mic away from his mouth while speaking.

“I’m Red, as I should be,” she winked and began her verse, in perfect pitch unlike Leon, her voice flowing from her effortlessly. But he wasn’t focused on that, frankly it didn’t matter to him; he was focused on the words. The way she looked at him when she sang, the pure emotion in her eyes easily visible even in the poor lighting of the bar... she meant what she sang, she wanted him to hear and to listen and to get it.

He didn’t come to from listening to her until it was his turn again just before the chorus and he missed his lines and she once again softly poked at his side with her elbow, chuckling a little as the chorus began and he was supposed to join in.

When the song (finally) ended, they were greeted with what one might call “mixed reviews”, but Claire didn’t mind, that wasn’t why she’d wanted to go up there in the first place.

Straight out telling her feelings to someone wasn’t something she was capable of doing, not even if she wanted to and tried to do to. She was much better at expressing her love and affection through passages quoted from books or poems or songs... and when Leon had taken her by surprise and told her he loves her for the first time... her response had been anything but great considering that was all she’d wanted to hear from him. So she’d put a plan in motion to come up with another way to let him know she felt the same way. Granted, this left a lot to be desired, but on such short notice..

“Claire...” he muttered when they were sat back at their table and a woman dressed in a striped hoody was busy slaughtering Abba’s “Dancing queen” on the stage.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dragged you out there, but I didn’t wanna go alone and it’s duet really, so... Look, my point was... Leon...”

“Are you sure?” he asked with a grin, quoting a line from the song as he leaned over the table and gripped Claire’s hands in his own.

“Yes, I’m sure deep down inside, you’re the one that I want,” she grinned back and leaned over the table to kiss him deeply.

 

 

***


	7. ...and his heart grew three sizes that day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to a holiday prompt starter "Awww, look at my little elf" for CLeon.

Claire was the first to wake up in the morning which wasn’t surprising considering how horrible Leon’s sleeping pattern was... but also because she was quite the “kid on a Christmas morning”. Leon didn’t share her enthusiasm regarding the holiday, he was more the “bah, humbug!”-kind of a guy. This year, Claire had decided to practically take over his apartment and force Christmas on him, and by the time she was done with all the decorating, it looked like the North Pole had exploded all over his apartment.

Not that there was much ground to cover, he lived in a small place; the alcove in the living room where his bed was his bedroom, the kitchenette so small that you had to back out into the living room when you needed to bend over to take something out from the oven. The bathroom at least was nice and roomy.

Claire could see why he hadn’t moved to a bigger place, it wasn’t like he usually spent a lot of time at home. And what little time he did spend there, he was quite happy just lying on the  bed watching TV,  or sitting at the desk by the window if he needed to work on something on his computer, there was no need for excess room. As for the kitchenette, well, it was so immaculate Claire suspected he didn’t spend a lot of time there.

This year, things were slightly different and the small apartment was cluttered with decorations Claire had brought over. Even Leon’d had to admit the Christmas lights she’d draped over the bookshelf did look nice and provided a soft illumination preferable to the harsh overhead lights. But he could’ve done without the tree. Small as it was, it was in his way, stuck between the area behind his chair at the desk and the tiny table next to the window, his dinner table as he liked to call it, so conveniently placed that all he had to do was spin around in his office chair and voilá, he was already at his dinner table. That was when he didn’t just eat at his desk, which happened more times than he would’ve liked to admit.

Claire poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to the living room, taking a seat in the arm chair in front of the TV.  She sat sideways, letting her legs dangle over the armrest and sipped the hot beverage in silence which was partially broken every now and then by the sound of Leon’s sleepy breathing.

He turned to lie on his back, his arm tucked underneath the pillow for extra support, and he inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose, still sound asleep. Claire grinned a little to herself and quirked an eyebrow when she noticed the bulge in his boxers, and an idea came to her.

 _I’m being childish,_ she mentally scolded herself as she went to open the drawer in the nightstand which was actually at the foot of the bed, and took out a box of condoms which, sadly, only had one left.

 _He’s gonna be so mad,_ she mused, still determined to go ahead with her plan anyway. He’d be mad because it was the last one and he had to special order them from an online store since non-lubricated condoms were surprisingly difficult to come by at the average corner store, and he was allergic to the lubricants.

 _But it’s gonna be so funny,_ Claire justified her wasteful deed, dug around in the drawer for a while longer to find a permanent marker and then slowly climbed onto the bed, straddling his legs. She was relatively certain he’d wake up before she’d get very far with her idea, but she decided to go for it regardless.

Claire tucked her fingertips underneath the waistband of his boxers and slowly began to tug them down and out of the way. It took her a while, but finally she got them halfway down his thighs without waking him. She reached to run her hand over his semi-hard manhood, slowly sliding her palm over it and back down. Leon inhaled deeply at the touch and she paused for a while to see if she’d woken him up, but he was still sound asleep.

 _Just a little more..._ she thought, suppressing a quiet laugh and went to wrap her hand around him. Length-wise he wasn’t above the average, but when it came to width, it was quite the opposite. She wouldn’t have gone as far as to nickname him beercan (frankly, a girth like that would’ve been too much and rather uncomfortable she imagined), but when he was fully erect, she wasn’t able to wrap her entire hand around him; just enough to get the tip of her thumb and middle finger to touch.

Leon let out another sharp breath and shifted in the bed a little, turning his head to the side, a soft moan escaping his lips. She pulled back his foreskin, then held her hand still, gripping him for a while longer once more waiting to make sure he was still asleep before proceeding.

She opened the condom and slowly began to roll it over the tip of his penis. He stirred again, and Claire knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d wake him, she had to hurry it up.

“Perfect,” she mumbled to herself when she was done putting the condom on him and reached for the marker. She had to work slowly and carefully so it took a while longer than she would’ve preferred, but once she was done, she was rather happy with the result. She grabbed her phone to take a picture of her handiwork.

“Aww, look at my little elf,” she couldn’t stifle the quiet giggle that erupted from her when she looked at the picture of Leon’s penis, decorated with a condom she’d drawn an elf costume on, the reddish tip of his manhood serving as the elf’s hat, a scarf and a jacket drawn on the rest of his length.

“Claire? What are you doing?” Leon mumbled, his eyes barely half open.

“Making our Christmas card for next year,” she informed him and turned the phone. He squinted and blinked a few times in the light emanating from the screen and it took him several seconds to realize what he was looking at.

“What the hell?” he scoffed and then turned to look down to see the real-life version of what he’d seen a photo of just now. “Oh, come on!” he sighed.

“Oh, you come on, it’s funny,” Claire said and put the phone away.  
“I’m pretty sure this counts as sexual assault of some kind,” Leon grumbled and annoyedly pulled the condom off.

“Don’t be such a grouch,” Claire rolled her eyes at him and moved away from straddling his legs, sitting sideways on the bed instead.  
“How would you feel if I did something like this to you?” he muttered.

“I’d love to see you try.”  
“Fine, the next time you’re asleep, I’m drawing a clown face on your boobs.”

“All right, all right... I’m sorry. I thought it was funny, I didn’t mean to upset you, and if it makes you feel better, then go ahead and draw clown faces on my boobs,” she apologized and he scoffed amusedly, sitting up as well. He reached for her phone and took another look at the photo she’d taken.

“Well... I suppose it is kinda funny,” he then admitted, smiling a little.

“Right?” she chuckled and turned to kiss his shoulder before nuzzling the side of his neck and his earlobe. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised then in a breathy whisper and he shivered, his skin rising to goosebumps at the feel of her breath brushing against his ear.

“Is that so?”  
“Definitely,” Claire murmured and put her hand over his cheek, turning his head toward herself so that she could capture his lips into a soft kiss.

“I bet you’re promising only because you know that was the last condom and it’s Christmas so it will take forever before I can get more of them,” he said after breaking the kiss and quirked an eyebrow.  
“There’s other things we can do,” she shrugged innocently, resting her head on his shoulder as she ran her hand down along his chest and to his abdomen.

“As long as it doesn’t count as my Christmas present,” he grinned and she chuckled softly, her hand venturing over to his thigh, her touch a light warm caress as she teased him for a while longer before slowly sliding off the bed and settling on her knees on the floor.

Leon let out a deep exhale and reached to gather her hair into his hand to keep it out of the way and to enjoy the view as she let her mouth glide along the shaft of his manhood, curling her tongue over the sensitive flesh as she did so, slowly making her way up and pausing to lightly suck on the tip before going down the other side.

Finally, she wrapped her fist around his length, her lips shortly following the example, enclosing tightly around the head of his cock. Leon leaned back, resting his weight on his left arm and inhaled sharply at the wet softness that engulfed him, contrasted by the sweet friction of her tongue as is lashed against his sensitive spots that otherwise would’ve remained out of reach.

He groaned, having to throw his head back and close his eyes when she sucked on him harder, her hand stroking a little faster.

“Claire,” he breathed and that was all the warning he was able to give before he came. She slowly eased her grip on him and ceased the movement of her hand once he’d finished, the last drops of the somewhat salty fluid spilled over her tongue.

Claire liked the way he tasted, always had. Contrary to how a lot of people seemed to feel, she didn’t consider giving oral to a man any more degrading than she would’ve felt doing the same to another woman. It was something she wanted to do and enjoyed doing.

She admitted, she would’ve felt differently if she’d had to force herself to go through with it just because an idiotic boyfriend insisted on it, she’d been there and done that. But with Leon, it was a pleasure.

He was a good man, and a gentle, dedicated lover. A rarity if there ever was one... or then it was just how they worked together; perhaps the other boyfriends she’d had in the past had seemed like selfish brats because they hadn’t known what to do with her and she hadn’t known how to tell them what she wanted. With Leon, that had never been a problem.

He settled to lie back on the bed and she went next to him, snuggling into his side with her arm around his midsection as he pulled the covers over them.

“I love you,” he mumbled against the top of her head, nuzzling her hair.  
“I love you too, Leon.”

“I think I’m beginning to enjoy Christmas,” he then said, running his hand over her side and she chuckled.

“I’m glad I’m finally beginning to rub off on you,” Claire said and bent her leg a little at the knee, moving so that he had more room for his hand which had made its way down over her hip and was now resting on the inside of her thigh.

“Oh, you definitely are...” he said quietly, his fingertips softly tickling her skin and she waited patiently for about two seconds before raising her hips off the mattress, pressing herself against his forearm for some contact while his hand still lingered somewhere near her knee.

“Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be,” Leon grinned.  
“Yes, and if you continue teasing me, I’m taking away one of your presents,” she threatened him and moved to get rid of her underwear and dropping them onto the floor.

“I’d better be nice then,” he said and flattened his palm between her legs, slowly rubbing against her with his hand before continuing only with his index finger and the middle finger, sliding them down on each side of her clit with gentle pressure.

She ran her hand through his hair and gently gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer and kissed him deeply as he eased the two fingers inside her, letting the side of this thumb to rub over her clit, curling the fingers within her, looking for the sensitive spot he knew was there.

Claire inhaled sharply and her back arched when he found it and pressed against it, slowly beginning to flick his fingertip over it as she pushed harder against his hand. After a while, Leon shifted on the bed, and Claire reluctantly let him go, his hand between her legs, only now unmoving as he focused his attention elsewhere, settling lower on the bed, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses over her chest and abdomen as he moved.

Claire pushed herself further up on the bed, the pillows piling against the wall allowing her a comfortable position as he went to lie down on his belly, settling between her legs, his unshaven cheek scratching the inside of her thigh as he kissed the soft skin before turning his attention to her clit. He flattened his tongue against it, enclosing his lips around her and sucked gently as he let the full width of his tongue to slide over her. Claire raised her hips once more, pushing against his mouth and he adjusted to her rhythm, letting his tongue grind against her a little harder.

Not long after that, she went stiff, her abdomen and her chest heaving in waves as her breathing became deeper and more frantic. She trembled and let out a series of loud yet soft moans when she peaked and he could feel her clench around his fingers as her release left her shuddering and whimpering. Leon eased her back from the edge gently, slowing his pace as the aftershocks began to fade little by little and Claire sunk back into the mattress.

Leon moved to lie down next to her and she turned to her side, nuzzling into his throat and held onto him tightly.

“Are you still mad at me for wasting the last condom?” she then asked, smiling and Leon chuckled softly.

“Mad? No. But I will withold sex to teach you a lesson,” he smirked, as if he’d had any other options. She wasn’t on the pill and neither one of them was willing to risk trusting him to pull out in time. As much as he did enjoy giving and receiving oral or handjobs, it wasn’t the same as making love, and he had to admit he really, really wished he would’ve purchased more condoms the last time. Or that Claire hadn’t decided to play with the last one.

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Claire grinned and sat up slowly, climbed out of the bed and went to the tiny plastic Christmas tree she’d forced into Leon’s apartment. She knelt down and went through the few gifts that were placed underneath it and picked up one adressed to Leon.

“Open it,” she smiled and he sat up on the edge of the bed, his eyebrow quirked.  
“You didn’t,” he said suspiciously as he began to undo the decorative string around the gift.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” she shrugged innocently.  
“My brand!” he exclaimed happily as he dug out a box of condoms from the wrapping paper.

“Well, to be honest, it’s a gift for myself as much as it is for you,” Claire grinned.  
“It’s just what I wanted,” he smiled.

“Good thing you were on the nice-list, huh?” she said and straddled his thighs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissed him deeply.

“Actually, since we’re opening presents early, I have one that’s really for both of us too,” Leon murmured into the kiss, put his arms around her and hugged her tightly to himself for a moment before once more loosening his grip to be able to let her move off of his lap so that he could go pick up the present. He returned shortly and sat cross-legged on the bed, Claire mirroring his position.

“Open it,” he encouraged quietly with a smile and Claire did as she was told, pausing to give him the “are you serious?” semi-glance and quirked eyebrow when she uncovered a black velvet ring box.

“Now, allow me to make a couple of excuses based on the feedback I got from Hunnigan, who was absolutely no help at all when I tried getting a woman’s opinion...”  
“Of course she wasn’t, how’s she supposed to know what I would like?” Claire smirked and Leon nodded.

“That’s what she said... and then she made a negative remark about the size of the stone...” he began, a vivid mental image of the situation flashing through his mind; Hunnigan adjusting and then readjusting her glasses and squinting hard in an exaggerated manner to let him know she obviously thought the diamonds were too small.

“...I told her I’d get bigger diamonds if she’d negotiate a better salary for me, that shut her up,” he then chuckled and Claire did too, the ring box still unopened in her hand.  
“Leon... what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this is probably tacky, and not much better a way to surprise than hiding the ring in a baked potato over dinner or something... but, I love you, and we’ve known each other for a long time and we’ve been through so much, and... I really can’t imagine my life without you, I sure as hell don’t want to live it without you—okay, no, that came out a bit wrong, but...” he stammered and Claire smiled. He was cute when he got flustered.

“What I’m saying is... will you marry me?” he asked slowly and waited for her to finally open the box.  
“First of all...” she began and took the ring from the box. It was an elegant ring in its simplicity, a thin white gold band with four diamonds set in the middle.

“...I wouldn’t have even wanted ridiculously big diamonds, those would get in my way and I think they’re tacky,” she finished her sentence and put the ring into his hand. For a while he was worried that was her way of rejecting him, but then he realized she was expecting him to do the honors.

“Secondly, of course I’ll marry you. You’re a good man, Leon, and I love you, and to borrow your words... I can’t imagine my life without you either,” she said, and held out her hand and he slid the ring on her finger.

Claire then moved closer to him, once more straddling his lap and he held her close, both of them still and simply enjoying the embrace and warmth of their bodies pressed together.

“I love Christmas,” Leon exhaled happily and nuzzled the side of Claire’s neck, and she burst out laughing.

***

 


	8. Gingerbread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to two prompts: "there’s my little elf for hunnigan and tripod" and "my gingerbread house is prettier than yours for Leon and Helena who met at a x-mas baking workshop without knowing that the other was there."

December 19th.

“Geez, go back to driving school, kid,” Helena muttered to a young man who almost ran into her shopping cart as he emerged from between the aisles without looking. Shaking her head, Helena continued on, beginning to feel like an old Grinch because she was quickly growing to hate Christmas time about as much as the notorious green creature had. She was certain that she’d find herself sneaking into people’s houses to steal their presents by Christmas day.

“Oh, hello,” Helena said when she saw a familiar woman pushing a cart.  
“Helena, hi! Almost didn’t notice you,” Hunnigan chuckled, visibly preoccupied with the long list she was reading from.

“I see you’re going to be spoiling your kids… or nieces and nephews,” Helena smiled, nodding toward Hunnigan’s cart that was filled with stuffed toys, Legos, coloring books, crayons and other things for children.

“Oh, no, no, no, I don’t have any kids; I’m donating these to a charity which’ll distribute them underprivileged kids,” Hunnigan explained and Helena tilted her head back, her mouth open in a silent “ah, okay” when she understood.

“I’ve still gotta pick up a few gift cards to a clothing store. Buying clothes for someone else’s children is difficult enough as it is, never having met the kid makes it even harder,” she chuckled.  
“Wow, that’s… just… really sweet of you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m single-handedly saving the kids, but I hope it makes a difference at least to whoever end up receiving these,” Hunnigan shrugged.  
“I know it does, I’ve been that kid,” Helena said.

“Really?”  
“Yeah, we were a good family, but broke as fuck… excuse my French,” Helena chuckled awkwardly and Hunnigan smiled.

“It’s fine. And I’m glad to hear that I am making a difference, sometimes it’s hard to know because I don’t personally go delivering things to people, _that_ is something I don’t have the time for,” Hunnigan said and began to head toward the checkout, Helena deciding to tag along.

“So, you do this every year?” she inquired.  
“I do this whenever I can,” Hunnigan answered.

“I never knew…”  
“Why would you have known? Frankly, I can’t stand the types of people who make a big deal out of what little good they do. You know the types who donate five bucks to a homeless person once a year and then bring it up in every conversation they can for weeks and go on as if the people in need of help just stop existing for the rest of the year, but what do they care, they’ve done their part, right?” Hunnigan smirked dryly and Helena scoffed a little.

“I know the type you mean,” she nodded. “Hey, Hunnigan… even though technically it would make me one of those types, how about you let me buy myself a clear conscience for a year and let me buy those gift cards for the charity,” she then suggested.

“It’s not like you need to ask for my permission,” Hunnigan chuckled quietly.  
“I know, but you’ll know where to deliver them and stuff…” Helena trailed off somewhat awkwardly.

“So, any plans for the holidays?” she then changed the subject, “Visiting your family or something?”

“No, my parents are spending the holidays in Brazil, that was my dad’s and my gift to mom, she’s always wanted to go there, her parents were originally from there, but immigrated to the U.S. before mom was born,” Hunnigan explained as she began to unload the cart.

“So, you’re gonna be alone? That sounds depressing. Well, I mean… it’s not like I have any better plans either. I was actually thinking about booking a hotel room for the holidays and just do nothing but soak in a bath and enjoy a king-sized bed,” Helena smiled.

“That sounds like a plan,” Hunnigan said, “And yeah, I guess being alone for Christmas sounds pathetic, but I’m used to being alone and I kind of enjoy it really. Besides, I’ve got my cats. Okay, that sounded even more pathetic,” she then smirked, and Helena laughed softly.

“Maybe just a little,” she agreed.

* * *

art commissioned from the ever-amazing [devilsarm](http://devilsarm.tumblr.com/). View in full size [here](http://devilsarm.tumblr.com/post/181338374840/alright-2-commissions-for-defaultjane-all-of).

* * *

 

December 20th Hunnigan was busy wrapping up the gifts she’d bought earlier. It would’ve been done by now if it weren’t for her cat, Tripod, who kept settling to lay on top of the wrapping paper or stole the wrapping string whenever Hunnigan looked away for more than two seconds.

“Aww, look at my little elf,” Hunnigan scoffed amusedly when she got out from the bathroom to discover that Tripod had once again dragged the string out from the living room all the way to the foyer and rolled in it, effectively wrapping himself up. She’d just finished untangling the cat when there was a knock on the door.

Hunnigan frowned, wondering who it could be, she wasn’t supposed to be meeting anyone today. It was probably Ms. Deaux from upstairs, she’d already been at Hunnigan’s door twice today, and it wasn’t even noon yet. The first time she’d asked to borrow a baking sheet, then she’d come back ten minutes later to borrow an egg to use for the egg wash. Maybe now she needed a brush.

 _Or the fillings from my teeth,_ Hunnigan grumbled internally as she answered the door.

“Helena. What a surprise.”  
“Hi! Sorry, I should’ve called ahead, but the idea came to me kind of ex tempore and my phone’s dead, so… but I brought lunch!” Helena said and held up a bag from the Chinese restaurant around the corner.

“I never realized you were Jewish,” Hunnigan grinned. Helena didn’t get the reference and promptly informed Hunnigan she was Catholic, but not the serious church-going kind.  
“Well, come in,” Hunnigan then invited and stepped aside to allow Helena entrance.

“Thank you,” she smiled and got in, pausing shortly after when she noticed the Siamese cat staring up at her with his slightly crossed deep blue eyes.  
“And who’s this handsome little guy?” Helena asked and knelt to pet him. Only then she realized the cat was missing his right front paw.

“His name is Tripod,” Hunnigan began and Helena turned to look at her slowly, the expression on her face what you might expect to receive if you’d just shot someone’s children right in front of them.

“Well, what else are you gonna call something that has only three legs?” Hunnigan reasoned.

“What happened to his paw?” Helena asked and chuckled softly when Tripod rose to lean to her knee and pushed his head against her chin, a soft purr emanating from him. She returned the affection by nuzzling the top of his head and he rewarded her with a lick on the tip of her nose.

“He was abandoned as a kitten and rats ate his paw. Ironic, huh?”  
“Poor kitty,” Helena commented and picked him into her arms and cuddled him.

“Yeah, he had a tough youth, but he’s still a sweet, special little guy,” Hunnigan said, and gestured toward the kitchen. Helena let the cat go and grabbed the food, heading over to the kitchen with Hunnigan.

“I really am sorry I just turned up like this, I didn’t mean to intrude.”  
“Intrude what?” Hunnigan laughed, “I wasn’t planning on doing anything. Well, other than wrapping up gifts and delivering them over to the center so they can give them out tomorrow.”

“Can I help?” Helena asked as she unpacked the food.  
“Sure, if you want to. God knows Tripod hasn’t been any help,” Hunnigan said. He meowed at her as if to protest. She bent down to pet his head and then went to grab the utensils from the drawer, but Helena shook her head.

“I’ve got these,” she said and clicked the chopsticks against each other.  
“Oh, cool. I never learned how to use those,” Hunnigan confessed and took a seat.

“It’s easy. I can teach you.”  
“I’ve heard others say that before, yet, here we are,” Hunnigan smiled and held up her fork before digging into the food.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

They ate and chatted, and Helena quickly learned that Hunnigan was quite the philanthropist, and in addition to being involved with charities helping kids and volunteering regularly at a local soup kitchen, she also gave a temporary home to rescued cats that needed a place to stay while waiting to be adopted.

“Why cats?” Helena inquired.  
“They don’t need as much attention and care as dogs do, which is good because sometimes I get stuck at work for long hours,” Hunnigan explained.

“Ah, of course.” Helena nodded. “So, basically you’re like a foster mom for cats.”  
“Hah! Somehow that sounds even worse than the typical crazy cat lady-comment I get.”

“It kind of does, yes,” Helena agreed. “How do you have the time for all this?”

“I don’t have a life,” Hunnigan smirked.  
“Oh, come on,” Helena scoffed.

“No, really. But I like my life as it is, contrary to what people seem to think. And by people, I mean my mother. As far as she’s concerned, one’s worth in life is measured by having a husband and at least one kid. So, since I have neither, my time isn’t as valuable as my older sister’s is.”

“That sounds a bit unfair.”  
“I’m sorry.”

“No, I meant, unfair toward you. Your time is just as valuable and you’re making a better use of it than most people are. You’re a good person, Hunnigan.”  
“Thanks, I try,” Hunnigan chuckled and actually felt herself blush a little.

A while later they’d finished eating and headed into the living room (where Tripod lay on the wrapping paper and patted the roll of wrapping string back and forth) to finish with the gifts.

It didn’t take very long despite Tripod’s best efforts to stall them, and once they were done, they packed them into bags. Helena offered to give Hunnigan a ride and she accepted the offer.

“So, now that today’s good deed is done, would you like to go out for a drink or something?” Helena asked once the presents had been delivered.  
“Oh, um, I don’t drink.”

“…of course you don’t, what was I thinking?” Helena smirked and Hunnigan chuckled a little. “Well, let me buy you a soda then?”  
“Something tells me you don’t want to go home,” Hunnigan pointed out as she put on her seatbelt and Helena started the car.

“You’re right, there’s no beer at home,” Helena winked.

Not long after that, Hunnigan found herself sitting at a table in the nearby pub, waiting for Helena to join her after getting the drinks. She chuckled when she saw the younger woman had gone the extra mile and gotten her soda decorated with a crazy straw shaped like a bell.

“How festive,” she remarked.  
“They didn’t have any sparklers, I would’ve gotten those in there too otherwise,” Helena said and took a seat at the small round table.

“This is wonderful as it is, thank you,” Hunnigan assured and took a sip of the cherry coke Helena had brought for her. “So, did you go through with your plan to spend the holidays in a hotel and book a room?” she then inquired.

“Hah, no, you’re looking at my holiday plans right now,” Helena smiled, raised the pint and gave a tiny nod before taking a drink from it.

“Would you like to come over to my place for Christmas dinner? I mean, it’s nothing fancy, just some chicken and mashed potatoes and maybe pecan pie… unless of course, you’d prefer drinking beer here,” Hunnigan then suggested and Helena smiled.

“I would love to come over. Can I bring something to the table? I mean, I can’t cook or bake to save my life, but…”  
“Shame, I really wanted a super fancy gingerbread house,” Hunnigan teased, “Bring your own beer,” she then shrugged, and Helena chuckled softly.

“I promise to figure it out some day and I’ll bring you an entire gingerbread mansion. Until then… thank you for the invitation, I would be happy to come over,” Helena said.  
“Excellent. You can come by at any time, it won’t take me long to cook that little dinner.”

“Okay,” Helena nodded and took another sip of her beer before leaning back in her chair and clearing her throat a little. She had something she wanted to know, but she wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to ask about a thing like that, especially when there was a chance that she could be wrong about her assumption.

 _Ah, what the hell,_ she thought and decided to go for it.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask you something, and you are, of course, not obligated to tell me, but… what happened?”  
“Excuse me?” Hunnigan’s eyebrows rose, then lowered into a frown when she tried to understand the question. Helena scratched the back of neck awkwardly and shrugged a little.

“Well, usually people who devote their lives to helping others have a guilty conscience. Unless they are nuns, and I’ve never seen you in a habit, so… I was just wondering what happened to you. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I won’t believe you,” Helena quirked an eyebrow and Hunnigan sighed, shaking her head a little.

“Why does everything have to happen as a reaction to something that happened to me, why can't I do something just-because? Maybe I just like to help because I can afford it, and if more people did the same the world would be a better place,” Hunnigan offered her the cop-out explanation and Helena rolled her eyes.  
“Okay, why can you afford it? Are you in charge of some huge trustfund full of blood money, is that it?” she teased and now it was Hunnigan’s turn to roll her eyes at the ridiculousness.

“All right, story time then,” she sighed, and Helena leaned closer, resting her chin in the cup of her hand.

“Before transferring to the agency which later became the DSO, I was in the Air Force. And among other things I did during my time there, I piloted drones, mostly just surveillance stuff, kind of boring really, but it paid pretty well.”

“And then something not-so-boring happened,” Helena assumed and took a drink, and Hunnigan nodded.

“Long story short, I bombed a wedding. I mean, going in, I didn’t know it was a wedding, but that doesn’t make it better, nor does it change the fact that I did it anyway, because that was my job and they were the bad guys and… you know how the typical excuses go,” Hunnigan shared.

“I can relate. When I was in the army, I was a helicopter pilot and a gunner, and sometimes... opening fire on people who may or may not be just a group of peaceful farmers who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time wasn’t exactly what I signed up for...” Helena trailed off, and Hunnigan offered a rueful smile.

She knew Helena was aware of what it was like to watch the smoke clear and see a mess of body parts scattered over the impact zone, local emergency workers rushing over to the scene to fight a losing battle against death. They both knew it wasn’t something you walked away from without getting nightmares, no matter what the excuses and what the politics dictated. At least, not if you had any kind of a conscience. And as bad as she felt afterward, she imagined it didn’t even begin to compare to how awful it had to be to those who’d lost friends and loved ones that day.

“I know, I’ve read your file,” Hunnigan said quietly.

“Oh, right,” Helena chuckled awkwardly, not even sure she wanted to know just how detailed it was and what it might have revealed of her mental state. Probably nothing too alarming or she wouldn’t be here casually chatting with Hunnigan.

“So… turned out I couldn’t really handle what I’d done and seen, developed a little drinking problem for a while there… like one does in such situations, call me a cliché,” Hunnigan smirked and shrugged, “…and eventually I figured it out, cleaned up my act, and here we are,” she then finished her story.

“I don’t know why, but I can’t imagine you drunk, like… at all,” Helena shook her head a little and took another sip of her beer, pausing for a moment to wonder if she was being inconsiderate, and judging from the way Hunnigan burst out laughing at the little hesitation, it was visible.

“Believe me, others’ drinking around me doesn’t bother me, so don’t worry about that.”  
“All right-y,” Helena mumbled into her pint.

“Secondly, I was a high-functioning alcoholic, so you wouldn’t have known I was drunk anyway. At least I really like to think so,” Hunnigan smirked.  
“Thanks for telling me about all that,” Helena then said.

“Thanks for asking, nobody else ever has. Well, aside from my psychiatrist, but you can’t really pay someone to take a genuine interest.”  
“True and true, I think my shrink spends half of the sessions filling out crossword puzzles.”

* * *

December 21st.

Helena knew Hunnigan had made the comment in jest, but she couldn’t resist at least trying. As she was exiting the store with the supplies, she spotted an ad for a “Christmas baking workshop” specializing in exactly what Helena needed help with, the note stating that someone had cancelled and that their spot was open for half the price.

“Well, if this ain’t a sign from God, I don’t know what is,” she mumbled to herself and dug out her phone to dial the number posted in the note. After getting the necessary information, she made her way over to where the class was held. She walked in and stopped in her tracks when she spotted a familiar face in the crowd of other evidently inadept chefs.

“What are you doing here?” Leon asked, seeming equally surprised at her turning up.  
“My taxes. What do you think I’m doing here?” she scoffed and decided to take up the free spot next to him just to tease him.

“I’m just saying, I never took you for the kind of a gal who’d be into this stuff,” Leon shrugged, and Helena chuckled.  
“Right back atcha.”

“I wanted to surprise Claire. She’s crazy about Christmas, she literally started putting up the Christmas decorations at midnight when it turned December first.”  
“And I take it you’re the Ebenezer Scrooge of the household,” Helena commented, and he nodded.

“Something like that. You never told me the reason you’re here. Unless I really was wrong, and you actually are into this stuff.”  
“Well, I too wanted to surprise someone,” Helena shrugged.

“Would that someone happen to be a tall, blue-eyed intelligence officer?” Leon snickered quietly as he set up his station, and Helena frowned at him.  
“What makes you think that?” she asked, and he barely kept from bursting out in laughter.

“Oh, come on. You are so transparent.”  
“I seriously have no freaking idea what you’re talking about.”

“All right, you don’t have to tell me,” he held his hands up in a surrendering gesture and before she could continue interrogating him further, the wannabe-Martha Stewart in charge of the class informed her students that it was time to get started.

Helena rolled out the pre-made dough and proceeded to use the provided cardboard cut outs to shape the walls and chimney for the house. So far so good, she was almost tempted to congratulate herself for not having managed to mess things up so far. Of course, they’d only just gotten started, but knowing herself, anything could’ve happened within the first ten seconds.

Once upon a time, she'd somehow managed to set her stove on fire, the incident most peculiar because she hadn’t actually had anything on the stove at the time. She still didn’t know why it had happened. Anyone else would've been tempted to blame it on the stove, but knowing herself, Helena wasn't willing to dismiss the possibility of being the culprit herself.

“Now, do remember that this is just a quick class to show you the basic principle of how this is done, you need a lot more time to build the actual house that you can then use as…”  
“Wait, what?” Helena’s head snapped up.

“Yes, it takes an average of two or three days to build a decent gingerbread house from scratch, one that won’t just fall apart the moment you put the roof and decorations on it, you need to wait for the icing to harden, and…”

“Ain’t nobody got time for that!” Helena and Leon exclaimed in unison and then glanced at each other, stifling a laugh at their own reaction.  
“I’m sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding, all this was stated clearly in the brochure…” the instructor trailed off and Helena sighed.

“No, I’m sorry, you’re right, I misunderstood. Please, continue,” Helena gave up.

She still had a couple of days to do this again, properly… provided she actually managed to learn anything here today. Once the cookies were done and cooled off, it was time to put the icing into a pastry bag and start gluing the pieces together with it. It looked a lot easier than it was, and a lot of the time spent building the house was actually spent waiting for the icing to dry enough for the pieces to stick… or in Helena’s case, a lot of the time was wasted just struggling to fill the damn pastry bag in the first place.

“Now, ideally, we would wait at least an hour before putting on the roof, but since we only have a couple of hours, use the canned goods you’ll find at your stations to support the walls with,” the instructor said. Leon and Helena glanced at each other again.

“What a rip off,” Leon whispered.  
“I was just about to say the same. What am I doing here, I could’ve just looked this up online,” Helena scolded herself.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I feel just as dumb,” Leon confessed as he put the cans in place and began putting the chimney together and then placed the roof-pieces ontop of the house.

“When you’re doing this at home, wait at least eight hours before decorating so that the house won’t just collapse underneath the weight of the icing and candy. For now, let’s just do minimal decorating, but when you’re doing this at home later, let your imagination run wild,” the instructor said and something about her overly cheerful manner and voice was beginning to irritate Helena even further.

“My gingerbread house is prettier than yours,” Leon said, and Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
“Yeah, well… my hair is prettier than yours!” she scoffed, and Leon inhaled sharply in shock.

“How… dare… you!”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry, I take it back, it wasn’t even true, I was just trying to hurt you,” Helena then said and as if this were a moment from a cheesy comedy, her gingerbread house collapsed underneath the weight of the roof at that exact second, like the universe had just decided to punish her for her words.

When the class finally ended about twenty minutes later, Leon decided to walk out with Helena, only he was carrying his gingerbread house with him, his creation still in one piece.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Helena sighed as they walked toward the parking lot.  
“Speak for yourself.”

“One more remark out of you and I’ll kick your pretty little house into pieces. Don’t think that I won’t,” Helena warned him, and he nodded to indicate he understood and agreed.

“And what the hell did you mean with that comment you made earlier?” she then demanded to know. Leon took a moment to put his house into the backseat of his car and into safety before answering her question.  
“I’ve just noticed that you act like a little girl with a crush on the teacher when you’re around Hunnigan.”

“I do not!” Helena guffawed in disbelief.  
“Oh, please, I’m surprised you haven’t started leaving apples on her desk,” Leon taunted.

“You’re an idiot.”  
“And you’ve got a crush on Hunnigan. You’re flirting with her all the time.”

“What! That doesn’t even…” Helena started to say but Leon held up his hand to interrupt her.

“You do the hair flip, you’re constantly touching her arm or the small of her back… if she made jokes, I bet you’d laugh a little louder than was necessary,” he smirked and crossed his arms over his abdomen as he finished making his point.

“I...!” Helena began to argue, but now that she was thinking about it, she realized he was right.  
“…you mean… you didn’t know?” he frowned at her then.

“Obviously not!”  
“How the hell do you not know a thing like that?” he scoffed, and she could not think of an answer.

“Probably because you’re actually wrong, I’d think I would know if I had a crush on Hunnigan,” Helena smirked, and Leon shrugged.  
“I suppose you’re right, of course you’d know,” he smirked back at her, and she narrowed her eyes at his obvious disbelief and sarcasm.

“I’ve gotta get going. Happy holidays,” he then smiled and got into his car.  
“Yeah, yeah, you too, Leon,” she responded.

 _Ridiculous. Utter nonsense. Just stupid,_ she grumbled internally as she drove home. Unfortunately for her, the longer she kept thinking about it, the more she began to accept he hadn’t been making it up just for the hell of it.

“Oh, God,” she sighed when she finally got to bed and realized she’d been thinking about Hunnigan the entire day, even long before Leon had brought it up.

“Oh, God!” she groaned again and buried herself deeper under the blanket.

_Maybe if I ignore it, it’ll go away._

* * *

Christmas day.

“Wow! That’s… I mean, you _do_ realize I was joking?” Hunnigan said when she answered the door and found Helena standing there with a gingerbread house on a plate in her hands and a plastic bag hanging from her forearm.

“Oh, I know, but I wanted to, and it was no trouble,” she lied. Honestly, this was her fourth attempt, and even still, it left a few things to be desired.  
“That’s really sweet of you, thank you,” Hunnigan said and accepted the plate from Helena, and the younger woman stepped inside.

“And these are for Tripod. I don’t know what he likes, but I figured I’d give it a shot,” she then said and dug out four boxes of different flavored kitty treats from the bag. Hunnigan didn’t even have to say anything; the moment the treats rattled in their boxes, the sound of Tripod hobbling over in a hurry could be heard from the living room.

“I think there’s your answer,” Hunnigan chuckled when the cat arrived into the foyer and went to press his side against Helena’s legs and rubbed against her shin purring loudly.

Helena took a moment to pet the cat and then followed Hunnigan into the kitchen, Tripod still following her.

“I got a little something for you too. Well, kind of. I know I told you to bring your own beer, but I wanted to treat you. Good thing I did, seeing as you didn’t bring any beer,” Hunnigan smirked over her shoulder.  
“Oh, yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on drinking,” Helena mumbled. _Because I’m scared I’ll get drunk and blurt out something stupid,_ she added mentally.

“You don’t have to feel self-conscious about drinking in front of me just because I don’t drink,” Hunnigan assured and put the gingerbread house onto the table and then turned her attention to the pot on the stove. It had milk and cinnamon in it, and it was slowly beginning to simmer.

“That’s not…” Helena began to say, but decided not to continue further. Telling her the real reason why she didn’t want to risk getting intoxicated wasn’t an option either.  
“It’s okay, really,” Hunnigan said and added some chocolate, sugar and a pinch of salt into the pot.

“All right…” Helena said somewhat awkwardly and took a seat at the kitchen table, Tripod keeping her company while Hunnigan busied herself with the chocolate-y cocktail. The cat stood on his hind legs, resting his weight on his paw as he leaned against Helena’s thigh and reached his head up toward her, letting out a quiet mewl to get her attention. She smiled and lowered her hand to pet him and scratch behind his ears.

Hunnigan added a generous amount of bourbon into the hot chocolate and stirred it all together before filling a mug with the drink and topped it off with tiny marshmallows.

“Try it, it’s amazing. Feel free to add more bourbon if it’s not strong enough, it’s hard to tell without tasting,” Hunnigan then smirked.  
“You’re right, it is amazing, and definitely strong enough,” Helena smiled after taking a sip.

“Dinner’s gonna be a while longer, feel free to go ahead and relax in the living room while you wait if you want,” Hunnigan then suggested.

“I’d rather stay here, it’s easier to chat. Besides, it appears that I’ve been run over by a cat and can’t move,” Helena joked when Tripod hopped up to her lap and settled to lie down.

“So… about you not drinking, did something happen?”

“How do you mean?” Hunnigan asked.  
“Usually something dramatic happens that makes a person realize they have a problem. Like they drive drunk and run over someone, or something like that, so was that the case with you or did you just decide that enough was enough,” Helena elaborated and took another sip of the sweet cocktail.

“Oh, that! No, I didn’t kill anyone because of drunken recklessness, but, yes, there was a day when I woke up, feeling hungover and rather miserable enough as it was, and then I realized I’d passed out in a pool of vomit.”  
“Ouch,” Helena hissed through clenched teeth, and Hunnigan chuckled.

“Oh, that was the neat part. When I got up from the floor, I discovered that I’d actually left behind a series of… well, puke puddles leading from the front door to the bedroom floor where I’d passed out. When I got to the bathroom, I found my clothes in a pile in the tub, also covered in vomit, obviously… and at some point, I had apparently grabbed the shower curtain to try and pull myself up from the floor, because the whole thing had come down, the rod and everything.”

“…that’s…” Helena began to mutter slowly, but couldn’t think of anything to add to it.

“Yeeeaaah… it wasn't flattering,” Hunnigan chuckled, “I was lucky I didn’t pass out while lying on my back or I probably would’ve drowned in my own vomit. And that’s the story of why I quit drinking. Not exactly an attractive mental image, is it?”

“Well, the important thing is you did something about it,” Helena said.  
“I suppose. After I quit, I realized that most of my ‘friends’ were actually drinking buddies rather than friends, and little by little I fell out of contact with everyone and had a lot more free time in my hands, so I started to volunteer at charities, and here we are,” Hunnigan finished her story.

“Regardless of how you ended up where you are today, I think what you do is great. You’re an amazing woman, Hunnigan,” Helena said and immediately grunted after letting that slip.

 _How much bourbon is in this?_ she frowned at the mug in her hand, already knowing it wasn’t the booze talking. _Damn you, Leon, why did you have to tell me?_ she then sighed internally.

“It’s nothing, it’s not like I’m rescuing kittens and babies out of burning buildings,” Hunnigan chuckled, apparently unaware of the intended depth of the compliment, “but thank you,” she then smiled.

* * *

 _I have made a huge mistake_ , Helena thought when she tried to look at her watch and realized she couldn’t make out the numbers. The hot chocolate and bourbon-combination was a treacherous cocktail; she’d drank three of them since dinner like they were just regular hot chocolates and she hadn’t felt the effects of them at all, not until now when apparently the entire force of it came crashing over her.

“It’s getting late, I should…” she muttered and reached to put the empty mug onto the coffee table.  
“If you think I’m gonna let you drive yourself in that state, think again,” Hunnigan scoffed, “Especially when the weather’s the way it is.”

“The weather?” Helena frowned and turned to look out the window. It was snowing, and judging from the generous amount of fluff coating the branches of the trees she could see, it had been snowing for a while now. Not uncommon considering the time of the year, but Helena had hoped it wouldn’t snow at all, save her the trouble of switching to snow tires, putting off doing that quickly becoming a decision she regretted.

“Well, shit. I guess I’ll call a cab,” she sighed.  
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Hunnigan chuckled, shaking her head. “You could also just stay here, and by the time you’ve slept it off, the roads will have been plowed,” she then reasoned.

“I don’t want to trouble you…”

“It’s no trouble, honestly,” Hunnigan dismissed and stood up. Helena stood up as well, only she’d forgotten she had a sleeping cat in her lap. Tripod let out a disgruntled and startled mewl and frantically sought out something to hold onto to keep himself from falling. Unfortunately, that something was Helena’s thigh, the cat’s claws digging deep into her flesh through the thin black jeans she was wearing, the tear deepening and growing longer as Tripod slipped lower, the weight of his body more than Helena’s jeans and skin could support.

“Oh, good lord!” Hunnigan exclaimed and reached to grab the cat and dislodge his claws from Helena’s leg.  
“…fuck that hurts!” Helena said in a high-pitched voice and brought her hands over to squeeze the wound.

“Come on, I’ll patch you up,” Hunnigan then said, put Tripod onto the couch and led Helena into the bathroom.

The scratches reached from halfway down Helena’s thigh all the way to the top of her knee, but fortunately they didn’t seem to be too deep.

“You’re gonna want to rinse it for a good few minutes,” Hunnigan then said and Helena sighed, nodding a little and took off her jeans, shoes and socks before stepping into the tub and grabbing the showerhead, doing as she was told.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” Hunnigan said as she opened the medicine cabinet and took out a pack of large adhesive wound dressings and sterile gauze.

“I hope not,” Helena muttered through clenched teeth. It was funny; she could withstand being thrown around, getting shot and stabbed at, getting hit with basically any imaginable blunt object, but a few scratches that stung like a motherfucker were enough to  incapacitate her by turning her into a teary mess.

When she was done rinsing the wound, she sat on the edge of the tub and Hunnigan washed her hands before getting ready to patch up the wound.

Hunnigan pressed the gauze over the injury and held it still for a while, waiting for the bleeding to stop. It took a while, but once it stopped, she rinsed the wound once more with warm water and waited for it to dry a little before grabbing the antibiotic spray.

“It’s not supposed to sting, but when have the labels regarding that ever been honest? So, buckle up just in case,” Hunnigan then smirked and applied the medicine to the wound. It did sting, but not as much as one could’ve expected.

“Remind me to buy you a can of first aid spray in case of emergencies like this,” Helena smirked back and Hunnigan chuckled.

“Considering how expensive it is, it’s a bunch of BS. Sure, it works fine for a few minutes, but really it’s a temporary relief at best, nothing beats good old fashioned wound care,” she smiled and pulled out a large adhesive dressing from the pack.

She’d been worried it wouldn’t be big enough, but thankfully, it reached over the wound just nicely. At this point, Helena wasn’t even paying much attention to the stinging pain in her leg, she was more focused on Hunnigan’s hands softly working to patch her up. She swallowed hard and inhaled and exhaled deeply, becoming uncomfortably aware of the fact that her heart began beating a little faster when Hunnigan touched her.

 _Oh, God,_ she groaned internally.

“There. How does it feel?”  
“Hm?” Helena was dragged back to reality. “Oh, it’s fine, thank you,” she mumbled and reached down to pick up her clothing from the floor. The jeans were soaked with blood.

“Let me throw those into the wash,” Hunnigan then said and without waiting for an answer, grabbed the pants from Helena and put them into the washing machine.  
“Now… I’m gonna go make the bed so that you can get some shut eye,” she then said.

“Hunnigan, no, that’s not necessary, I’ll just sleep on the couch,” Helena shook her head.  
“Even if I didn’t know for a fact that Tripod’s nightly shenanigans would keep you awake, I wouldn’t let you sleep on the couch, you’re my guest.”

“Yeah, well, now his shenanigans will keep you awake then.”  
“I’m used to them,” Hunnigan chuckled.

“Be that as it may, let’s both of us just stay in the bedroom,” she suggested and mentally kicked herself. _Why the fuck did I say that? What is wrong with me!  
_ “Sure, we can do that, if you’re comfortable with it,” Hunnigan shrugged, oblivious to Helena’s internal struggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Helena chuckled, hoping to sound as nonchalant as she desperately tried to appear.

Not long after that, they were in Hunnigan’s queen-sized bed, the bedroom dimly illuminated by the light blue of the street lamps softened and amplified by the snow reflecting it. Helena could hear Tripod scamper across the living room floor and the sound of him attacking his cat tree with viciousness that compensated for his lacking other front paw.

Helena closed her eyes and took a deep, quiet breath. She could feel the warmth radiating from Hunnigan’s body and it was all she could do to keep herself from reaching out and touching her shoulder or reaching to nuzzle the back of neck and inhale the scent of her hair.

 _Oh, God, I am losing it, I’m seriously losing it,_ Helena mused, took another deep breath and swallowed hard.

“Hunnigan, can I ask you something personal?”  
“Better than anyone I know,” Hunnigan chuckled and turned to her other side, facing Helena. “What do you want to know?”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Helena inquired and Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.  
“I would’ve thought the number of cats answers that question,” she laughed a little, shaking her head, “I am not seeing anyone, and I don’t think that’ll change anytime soon, not that I’d necessarily want it to either.”

“Why not?”

“Because I enjoy being alone and honestly, I don’t find many people interesting enough to want them as a permanent part of my life,” she shrugged one shoulder. “Present company excluded,” she then added with a lopsided smile.

“But don’t you ever miss being close to another person? You know, like… their skin against your own, and kisses and cuddles and all that?”  
“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I know I myself miss things like that, and I don’t understand how you do this whole ‘being alone’-thing so well. Any hints and tips you could offer?” Helena smirked and Hunnigan chuckled.

“Not really. And to answer your previous question, of course I miss those things, I’m only human. But, you get used to things, lack of affection being just one of the many things you can adapt to and overcome in time,” she shrugged one shoulder.

“What a terrible thing to get used to.”  
“I guess so. I don’t really think about it all that much nowadays,” Hunnigan said and settled to lay on her back.

“Funny, because I’ve recently thought about nothing else.”  
“Strange, because you never struck me as the type who’d enjoy cuddling.”

“Why is that?” Helena frowned.  
“It’s the tough exterior, you come across as someone who will punch anyone who tries to hug her,” Hunnigan laughed softly.

“Well, you’re wrong,” Helena stated and moved closer to Hunnigan, reaching to put her arm around the taller woman’s midsection and rested her head on her shoulder.  
“Okay…” Hunnigan said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Also, I’ve recently realized that I never thanked you.”  
“For… um, for what?” Hunnigan mumbled, slowly and carefully letting her arm wrap around Helena’s shoulders and her hand to rest on Helena’s arm.

“For everything you’ve done for me since day one. You stood up for me when no one else wanted to accept my transfer to the DSO because of the indiscretions in my file…”

“Well, in my experience, people who have a perfect record are liars or psychopaths who have nothing on their file because they’ve not gotten caught or simply aren’t affected by anything.”

“Be that as it may, I’m grateful that you took me under your wing. I don’t suppose you realize it, but you’ve changed my life for the better in a hundred different ways,” Helena muttered.  
“I… hadn’t really thought about it, but you don’t need to thank me either way.”

“I, um… I have to tell you something,” Helena then said and rose to rest her weight on her forearm.  
“Sounds serious,” Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.

“It is. And I know you’re probably going to tell me it’s just the booze talking, but it isn’t, trust me, I’ve… this has been on my mind long before today… long before I even realized it was how I… okay, this is sounding weird.”

“Just… what are you talking about?” Hunnigan chuckled awkwardly and Helena offered a rueful smile. In all honesty, she really didn’t want to admit it, she didn’t want to risk losing what was starting to seem like the beginning of an amazing friendship… but at the same time, not mentioning it wouldn’t work in long-term either.

God forbid if there came a day when Hunnigan did start seeing someone; Helena would be stuck perpetually beating herself up for never saying anything before, and trying to deal with jealousy which would inevitably just lead to her messing up their friendship even worse. She hated to say it, but she knew this from experience.

“The truth is that… I’m falling in love with you.”  
“… oh.”

“I, uhm… I’ve felt that way for a while now, I can’t stop thinking about you, and the more time I get to spend with you, the more I realize how happy being with you makes me feel, and how miserable I am when I’m not with you…” Helena trailed off, sighed deeply and shook her head a little. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have told you, I’m… I’m gonna go,” she then stammered and got out of the bed. Hunnigan sat up as well and reached to turn the light on.

“Dressed like that?” she quirked an eyebrow, pointing out the fact that Helena’s jeans were still in the washing machine.  
“… shit,” Helena grumbled and sighed, turning around slowly. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of pants I could borrow?”

“Sure, but I don’t want you to go anywhere,” Hunnigan shook her head and Helena seemed to perk up a little at hearing that.  
“… you don’t?”

“Look, Helena… I’d be lying if I told you that I’m not attracted to you or that I’m not aware of a certain chemistry we have… and honestly, I really enjoy spending time with you too.”  
“But?” Helena inquired suspiciously, looking like she was expecting something to hit her or fall on her head any second now.

“There is no ‘but’, Helena,” Hunnigan chuckled softly and shook her head a little.  
“So… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I would want to see where this goes. Could be we soon learn we’re not exactly compatible as a couple and then we’ll go our separate ways in that sense at least… or, who knows, maybe this could turn out to be the love story of the century. Either way, I think it’s worth a shot, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Helena almost yelled excitedly and blushed at her obviously eager reaction. “Uh, I mean… I would really like that. So, what happens now?”  
“Well, how about we get some sleep and talk more in the morning?” Hunnigan smiled.

With that, they got back into bed and Hunnigan reached to turn off the light. Helena scooted closer to her under the covers and let her hand rest on Hunnigan’s forearm for a moment before sliding it down and entwining her fingers with Hunnigan’s, drawing a circle into her palm with her thumb in a slow gentle stroke.

“You know… I really hadn’t realized how much I actually did miss being close to someone until just now,” Hunnigan mumbled. It was just a light touch of the hands, but she honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her hand.

“You won’t have to miss another second of it as long as I’m around,” Helena assured and nuzzled into the side of Hunnigan’s neck.

* * *

Christmas morning, two years later.

Tripod jumped onto the bed, unable to pull off the slow creeping approach any other cat would’ve been because he was missing one leg which meant he needed to take tiny hops forward rather than sneak.He made his way up from the foot of the bed and hobbled over Helena’s abdomen until he was standing on her chest and leaned down to sniff her breath before proceeding to lick her nose.

“Oh, come on, Tripod… go bully Hunnigan,” Helena grumbled sleepily and slowly began to roll over to her side, giving Tripod time to jump out of the way. He meowed at her and moved reluctantly, and when Helena reached to feel the other side of the bed, she realized Hunnigan wasn’t there.

Sighing, Helena sat up and yawned, running a hand through her hair and reluctantly abandoned the warm and comfortable bed. She walked to the kitchen and wasn’t surprised at all to find Hunnigan there, busying herself with piecing together the gingerbread house she’d gotten started on yesterday.

“I can’t believe you got started without me,” Helena smirked. Her inability to cook or bake anything had become kind of an inside joke between the two of them over the time they’d been together.  
“I was hoping to surprise you, I know how much you hate making these,” Hunnigan chuckled, put the pastry bag away and got up.

“Happy anniversary,” she then said and went to Helena, wrapped her arms around her and leaned to kiss her deeply.  
“Happy anniversary, Ingrid,” Helena smiled into the kiss, “And merry Christmas,” she then added.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Hunnigan said and hugged Helena tightly for a while longer before slowly backing away from the embrace and reached to turn the coffee maker on before returning to her decorating. Helena went to stand behind her and leaned down, crossing her arms over Hunnigan’s chest and nuzzled her neck.

“You’re distracting me.”  
“Good, because I’d much rather just go back to bed with you and stay there snuggling and eating chocolate the entire day,” Helena murmured into her ear and Hunnigan tilted her head to the side, closing her eyes and letting out a quiet groan of pleasure at the mere suggestion.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” she muttered and exhaled deeply when Helena’s hands traveled lower to cup her breasts.  
“Is it working?” Helena grinned and trailed her lips along Hunnigan’s jawline, covering the side of her neck with soft, warm kisses.

“Mmm… no.”

“That’s not what your body says,” Helena teased as Hunnigan instinctively leaned back into the embrace and exhaled deeply when Helena gently pinched Hunnigan’s left nipple between her thumb and index finger.  
“You don’t play fair.”

“Who said anything about playing?” Helena commented innocently.  
“Okay, okay, you need to stop,” Hunnigan finally said and Helena sighed in disappointment and reluctantly stood up straight.

“Why don’t you want to spend the day in bed with me?” she pouted and Hunnigan chuckled.

“You know I want to. But you also know that we’re going to my parents for Christmas dinner this year, and if I let you talk me into going back to bed with you, I’m never getting back up again, and believe me, I’d rather not have to listen to my mother lecture me about the subject.”

“Oh, come on, snuggling with me is totally worth the lecture,” Helena smirked and poured herself a mug of coffee.  
“…and I also know you’re trying to put this off because you’re terrified of meeting my parents,” Hunnigan added.

“Tsh, no I’m not,” Helena scoffed.

“Yes, you are. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have spent all this time coming up with every excuse imaginable to not meet them, but I’m not letting you get away with it this time. We’ve been together for two years, it’s about time you met them! Frankly, I’m certain that at this point they’re beginning to think I’ve made you up.”

“Can’t we just go all Hollywood and send a video greeting or something?” Helena mumbled into her coffee mug and Hunnigan laughed softly.  
“No! We’re going, we’re gonna have a nice dinner, they’re gonna love you and you’re gonna love them, and it’ll be all happy and warm and… other nice things, all right?”

“All right, but when we get back, I’m expecting you to be prepared to lay on the bed, spread-eagled, covered in chocolate and whipped cream which I’ll then get to lick off. That is non-negotiable.”  
“… if that’s all you really want in return for meeting my parents, then… I have a feeling we’ll be visiting them _a lot_ in the future.”

***


	9. Better now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to “Are you sure it’s illegal to kill carolers?”, no ship was provided so I went with Hunniper.

Helena Harper was by far the grumpiest person Sherry had ever met, and her very recent separation from Hunnigan hadn’t done anything to improve her already less than sunny disposition.

“Are you sure it’s illegal to kill carolers?” Helena grumbled from the couch, her words muffled by the pillow she had buried her face in.  
“Yes,” Sherry responded after closing the door once the carolers were gone.

“I think shooting them would be doing them a favor.”  
“You’re horrible, it’s three days until Christmas, where’s your holiday spirit?” Sherry quirked an eyebrow and took a seat on the couch.

She and Helena had grown to be rather close friends over the past couple of years Helena had worked at the DSO, and she had gladly offered Helena a place to stay when the other agent had gotten herself kicked out from home.

“And why do you refuse to tell me what you did that got Hunnigan angry enough to kick you out? Must’ve been something pretty bad, I don’t recall ever seeing her get angry, not even at Leon when she’s had to pick him up from all kinds of places after his drunken misadventures…”

“It’s nothing,” Helena pouted, and Sherry sighed.  
“Fine, don’t tell me, but don’t expect any sympathy either,” Sherry rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay. It’s about Avery.”  
“Her daughter? What did you do?”

“Do? Nothing! Jesus, Sherry, she’s just a baby, what the hell kind of a monster do you think I am?”

“Well, you just said you wanted to shoot carolers, so I gotta consider everything,” Sherry shrugged one shoulder, even though in all seriousness she knew Helena would rather soak herself in gasoline and light a match than ever do anything that would hurt the child in any way.

“So, what about Avery?” Sherry then inquired.

“I told Hunnigan I wanted to adopt her, and she said she didn’t think it was a good idea so soon, like she’s expecting our relationship to fall apart,” Helena began to explain the origin of the argument that had gotten Helena kicked out.

When she and Hunnigan had began dating, she hadn’t known Hunnigan was pregnant at the time. It was a small miracle she didn’t know considering the phone call Hunnigan had gotten from her mother (during which she’d very loudly made it clear she didn’t approve of Hunnigan’s plan of having a child via artificial insemination, and wailed over the fact that she’d have a test tube for a son in law) had been the top story for weeks as far as office gossip went.

Of course, Hunnigan had told her about the pregnancy prior to actually agreeing to go out with Helena, but after the initial surprise, it hadn’t changed anything as far as Helena was concerned. She did admit she might have changed her tune if it had turned out Hunnigan knew the father of the child.

“I mean, for God’s sake, I’ve been there since the beginning. I was there during the pregnancy, I was there when Avery was born,” Helena began her rant and paused to look at the back of her hand which still had three crescent moon shaped scars on it left behind by Hunnigan’s fingernails when she’d squeezed Helena’s hand almost hard enough to break it during that one last push while giving birth to Avery.

“… and it pisses me off when Hunnigan acts like she’s expecting me to just… run off or something, which is even more ridiculous when you consider that I’m the one trying to commit, and she shrugs me off,” Helena muttered.

“And I suppose it never occurred to you that _she_ might be the one who has a problem committing, and sharing the custody of her child with you would make it harder for her to run off if she changed her mind about you,” Sherry pointed out and Helena’s mouth hung open for a long while without any words coming out as she processed what Sherry had just said.

“Oh, my God, you’re right. I hadn’t even considered that, I just… Well, fuck. But if she wanted to break up with me, why wouldn’t she just say so?”

“I never said anything about breaking up, it’s probably nothing that dramatic, maybe she just needs more time, a couple of years is hardly going to be enough her, you know she needs to consider all her options before making a decision, especially when it’s a big one like this. She’s an overly cautious thinker,” Sherry said, and Helena sighed.

“You’re right, I don’t think I’ve seen her do anything based on emotion alone.”  
“Well, she did agree to go out with you, I doubt that was something she thought through,” Sherry smirked, and Helena grabbed the decorative pillow from the corner of the couch and hit her side with it.

“It took me forever to gather up the courage to even ask her. She’s always so neatly put together, I just wanted to mess her up,” Helena chuckled a little and put the pillow away.

“I guess you succeeded. Okay, so, you told her you want to adopt Avery and she kicked you out. Why do I feel like there’s a piece missing from the story?” Sherry then inquired, her eyebrow arched high as she pretended to ponder about it.

“She said not now, I got mad and said something stupid along the lines of nothing ever being good enough for her, and then it just escalated from that to bickering over stupid shit that doesn’t even matter, and she told me to get out and… I haven’t spoken to her since.”

“Helena, you are such a drama queen; it’s been twelve hours, you make it sound like you’ve been separated for months,” Sherry scoffed and went to the kitchen to grab herself a soda.

“But I miss her,” Helena whined.  
“Then why don’t you call her?” Sherry reasoned as she returned and opened the can.

“Why should I call first, she’s the one who kicked me out.”  
“Because knowing you, you deserved to get kicked out.”

“I most certainly did not,” Helena interjected in a scoff, but Sherry ignored her.  
“And because knowing Hunnigan, you’re gonna be waiting for a very long time if you expect her to make the first move. You’ve already admitted you miss her, imagine how much worse you’ll feel tomorrow,” she taunted, and Helena hung her head a little.

“Just call her,” Sherry sighed.  
“All right, all right,” Helena gave in and dug out her phone, dialed the number and then glanced at Sherry.

“Are you just gonna sit there and listen in?”  
“Oh, hell yes, by now I’m invested in finding out how this ends,” Sherry smirked, nodding her head as she sipped her soda. Helena was about to make a remark when Hunnigan answered the call.

“Hey, Hunnigan… Listen, I… I’m sorry. I know. Oh, I’m at Sherry’s. I miss you. I know… Did you get Avery to eat her peas?” Helena chatted, and Sherry chuckled quietly.

“You gotta pretend you’re sneezing them out of your nose,” Helena said, and Sherry almost choked on her drink, some of coming out of her nose and spilling onto her shirt. Imagining Helena doing that to coax the child into eating her peas was easy, but the mental image of Hunnigan ever doing that was harder to conjure up, but worth the effort in the end because it was hilarious.

“I’d be happy to come home and do it,” Helena trailed off, inviting herself back home in a less than subtle way, but apparently it worked.

“See, aren’t you glad I talked you into calling her?” Sherry smiled once Helena had ended the call.  
“Yes, but don’t think I don’t know you did it to get me out of your hair as much as you did it for me.”

“I wasn’t even trying to deny that, as if I’d want to spend my Christmas with a grouch like you,” Sherry teased.

* * *

“I just got Avery to sleep,” Hunnigan said the moment she answered the door and Helena nodded, silently agreeing to keep her voice down.

“Look… I’m sorry about the stupid fight. I shouldn’t have taken it so personally, I know you like to take things slow and be cautious, especially about something as big as the custody of your child, I… I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to push you about it or put pressure on you,” Helena apologized once more, and hoped it didn’t sound quite so much like a rehearsed speech to Hunnigan as it did to herself.

“It’s all right, and quite frankly, I think I’m the one who should be apologizing. I don’t even know why I reacted the way I did, it’s not like you’ve given me any reason to doubt your devotion, I mean… I was expecting you to grab the breadsticks and run the moment I told you I was pregnant, but you stuck around, and you’ve been here for me for over two years now. I understand my obvious hesitations have got to be insulting to you.”

“Sherry suggested it’s not my commitment that worries you as much as it is your own,” Helena shrugged one shoulder a little.

“It’s true. I’m used to being by myself, and now it’s looking like I’m slowly becoming dependent on you, and it scares me, because what if… at some point you _do_ decide to leave, and I’ve already gotten too used to you always being here, I don’t know how I would build everything back up from that point.”

“Hunnigan…”  
“I know what you’re gonna say, but it’s not something you can—” Hunnigan began to say, but Helena interrupted her by gently pressing her index finger over her lips.

“You’re right, I can’t promise an eternity, I can’t see into the future any more than you can. For all I know, you’ll have dumped my stupid ass a week from now. Or, alternatively, we’ll end up staying together for the next seventy years and get to watch our daughter get married and have kids of her own or become a rock star or an astronaut, or whatever she wants to,” Helena said, slowly moving her hand to cup Hunnigan’s cheek.

Hunnigan did notice Helena using the word “our” when talking about Avery, like it was the most natural thing in the world. She was certain Helena had never used it before.

“My point is… this isn’t something we can figure out just by thinking about it, this is more a matter of faith. I’m not going anywhere, and I hope you’ll believe me. And… one day, if you want to take any further steps in our relationship or regarding Avery’s guardianship… then, I hope you’ll let me know, because you already know how I feel about it. And that’s all I’ve got to say about that, so let’s just… see what happens, yeah?”

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?” Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow and took Helena’s hand into her own, entwining their fingers together.

“That’s why you love me,” Helena chuckled quietly.  
“Among many other things,” Hunnigan nodded and leaned to kiss her softly.

“So… since Avery’s asleep and we’ve got some peace and quiet to ourselves… how about spending some quality time together in bed?” Helena then suggested after breaking the kiss.  
“If you’re talking about sleeping, the answer is yes.”

“What else could I possibly be talking about? Frankly, at this point I cannot imagine any physical sensation that I would find more satisfying than sleep,” Helena said and Hunnigan laughed a little.  
“I’m thinking I should probably be somewhat offended by that,” she quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, love hurts. And I’m not just talking about the time we fell off the bed.”

* * *

Despite being exhausted after having spent the previous night on Sherry’s couch tossing and turning while agonizing over the argument she’d had with Hunnigan earlier that day, Helena couldn’t fall asleep. And if she couldn’t sleep, neither could Hunnigan really, because try as she might, Helena didn’t know how to be quiet and still or to just leave the bed rather than stay there sighing in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” Hunnigan muttered and turned to face Helena, reaching to rest her arm over Helena’s midsection.  
“Nothing exactly, I’m just thinking about the conversation we had earlier and I’m trying to think of a way to convince you that I’m not going anywhere.”

“Helena, you know it’s not that I—”  
“Marry me,” the younger woman interrupted, and Hunnigan rose to rest her weight on her forearm and stared at Helena in the dim room.

“Excuse me?”  
“You heard me, I want you to marry me,” Helena repeated, her smile audible in her voice, and what had to be the first time in her life, Hunnigan didn’t even hesitate.

 

 ***


	10. The kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "you've never had a New Year's kiss?" prompt for Cleon.

The conference room had been transformed into a party venue of sorts, the long table in the middle serving as the bar and the buffet, various drinks and snacks on it. Despite the quite bountiful offerings of the event, Leon would’ve rather been at home. Then again, there was no free booze at home, and he could say he’d spent the New Year’s Eve celebrating with friends and not drinking alone, that would save him from having to be at the receiving end of a few sad looks. Besides, he’d promised Claire and Sherry.

The party had been their idea, to bring together the BSAA, TerraSave and DSO agents in a casual setting, get more of the agents to know each other. It supposedly helped them work better together in the future. Leon agreed it was a good idea, but at the same time, he didn’t much feel like bonding.

“Having fun?” Claire asked him as she paused to stand next to him.  
“No,” Leon answered honestly and Claire laughed.

“I knew you’d say that,” she said and sighed a little, turning to face him with her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just not much of a party-goer,” he shrugged and smiled a little. “It’s a good party, though,” he admitted then.

“High praise indeed,” Claire smirked and reached to pour herself a cup of punch.  
“…but is she even old enough to drink?” Leon then inquired, nodding subtly toward Moira Burton, who was excitedly telling something to Chris Redfield.

“She’s twenty-two,” Claire replied.  
“She looks like she’s barely fourteen.”

“I dare you to tell her that just to see her kick your ass,” Claire laughed and Leon scoffed amusedly.  
“Nah, I prefer my ass intact, and just staying here watching people,” he said and took a long drink from his mug. Claire took a sip too and shrugged one shoulder.

“I do people-watching sometimes too. It’s funnier if you make up dialogue between them.”  
“Oh, yeah? Like how?”

Claire looked around the room for a moment, looking for a group or a couple who would suit her purposes. She spotted Helena and Hunnigan who’d retreated a to the side a little and were busy chatting with each other.

“All right, so… Helena, next year we’re not spending the Christmas at my parents, they can be so judgmental,” Claire began putting words in Hunnigan’s mouth, and Leon laughed.  
“She does not sound like that.”

“Quiet, I’m not here to do a perfect impression,” Claire slapped his shoulder softly, “Ingrid, they are your family. Of course they are going to be judgmental,” she then continued as Helena and Leon held up his hand and shook his head as he inhaled deeply in between chuckles.

“Okay, stop, please,” he said and Claire sighed.  
“Yeah, that wasn’t my best work,” she said.

“Naw, it was good. And I liked the couple-angle.”  
“Leon, they totally _are_ a couple,” Claire scoffed and took another drink from her mug.

“Oh, please, they’re not. I’ve known Hunnigan for like… a decade, there’s no way she’d ever date a co-worker, especially not a field agent,” Leon shook his head and Claire quirked an eyebrow.  
“Wanna bet?”

“Bet what?”  
“When it’s midnight and people traditionally begin dishing out New Year’s kisses, they are so going to kiss.”

“All right. So, what’s the bet?”  
“If I win, you have to clean up after the party.”

“And if I win, you have to give me a New Year’s kiss. I’ve never had one.”  
“You’ve never had a New Year’s kiss? You’re just telling me that so I’ll kiss you out of pity because you know you’re going to lose this bet,” Claire smirked and Leon chuckled softly.

“Well, we’ll see about that in… five minutes or so,” he quirked an eyebrow. “Look, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, not having to clean up after the party will be winning enough,” he then added with a grin.

A few moments later, the deputy director gave a little speech and then promptly told people to get ready for the countdown to midnight. Claire crossed her arms over her abdomen and gave Leon a confident smirk when across the room Helena reached to put her hand over Hunnigan’s forearm and took a step closer to her.

“Oh, come on,” Leon sighed when Claire’s prediction came true and Helena leaned in for the kiss and Hunnigan welcomed her. Instead of making a triumphant taunt of victory like Leon was expecting her to, Claire put her hand over the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

He let his hands rest on her hips and barely stifled a moan when she pressed herself against him, her arms around his shoulders. The kiss lingered on, long after the crowd in the room was cheering and loudly wishing each other a happy New Year.

Leon barely heard them, the only thing that mattered to him in the world right now was Claire. Her lips on his, her arms around him, the way her breath tasted of strawberry, kiwi and vodka. Neither could say how long they’d been there when Claire finally began to slowly break the kiss, but instead of pulling away from him, she moved to rest her chin on his shoulder and held onto him tighter.

“I… that was… that was nice,” he stammered a little.  
“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Any chance you’d want to do it again, preferably long before the next New Year’s party?” he grinned and she chuckled a little.  
“Actually… there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now. You want to slip away somewhere a bit more private?” she then said and he frowned a little at the sudden seriousness.

“Uhm, sure, let’s just use Hunnigan’s office,” he shrugged a little and led the way. He closed the door behind them and Claire leaned against the edge of Hunnigan’s desk.  
“So, what’s up?” Leon inquired, hoping to sound nonchalant.

“Okay, firstly, a disclaimer: I’m a little bit tipsy so I reserve the right to regret and deny ever having spoken of the things I intend to bring up,” Claire began and Leon laughed a little bit.  
“Agreed,” he nodded.

“All right, so… you know how you have this habit of hitting on everything that moves and almost everything that doesn’t move?”  
“Uh… I wouldn’t say I do that exactly, but…”

“You totally do it. For God’s sake, Leon, from what I’ve heard, you even tried to hit on Hunnigan once upon a time.”  
“Yeah, and now I finally know why she turned me down,” Leon winked and Claire rolled her eyes.

“Okay then, let’s say I do that, let’s say I flirt excessively, what about it?” he then asked.  
“Yeah. So, what I want to know is… why don’t you ever do that to me?”

“Hit on you?”  
“Yeah, you’ve never done that,” Claire elaborated and crossed her arms over her abdomen, pursing her lips a little. Leon chuckled a little at the pouty look on her face and exhaled deeply. He stepped to her and unfolded her arms, taking her hands into his.

“Claire, I flirt with women all the time, and it’s friendly and casual and almost never actually leads to anything other than a fun chat or… you know, nothing serious ever,” he began and from the way her eyebrow quirked, he could tell she wasn’t exactly impressed with his explanation.

“I can’t flirt with you because it wouldn’t be just for fun, because you’re really important to me. Does that make sense?”  
“You don’t flirt with me because you care about me?” Claire summarized with a suspicious frown.

“Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that,” he chuckled awkwardly.  
“Another way to put it would be to say you flirt only with women you have no respect for.”

“What? No! That’s not what I—”  
“Relax, I’m just teasing you,” Claire laughed softly and sighed.

“So, are you saying you’d want me to flirt with you?” he then asked and Claire smiled, shrugging slowly.  
“I wouldn’t mind it,” she said innocently. Leon grinned a little and took a moment to think of something.

“Good thing I was a cop only for a day or I’d have to arrest myself for stealing your heart,” he said smoothly and Claire burst out laughing.  
“You can do better than that.”

“I’d brag about being an organ donor, but you already knew that since you have my heart.”  
“That’s worse,” Claire laughed and Leon nodded.

“I know, I’m no good this when I’m trying to be,” he agreed, chuckling a little and shook his head.  
“Tell you what, how about we just go out for a pizza or something?”

“Are you asking me out like on a date, miss Redfield?”  
“Yes, because if it were up to your pickup lines to get the job done, we’d be here til next year, and I’m pretty sure Hunnigan’s gonna want her office back before that,” Claire smirked and Leon nodded.

“You’re probably right,” he admitted.  
“So, date tomorrow, I’ll call you?” Claire then suggested.

“I look forward to it,” Leon smiled. Claire crossed the room and paused at the door to look at him over her shoulder, smirking a little.

“Oh, and you’re still cleaning up the office after the party; you _did_ lose the bet after all.”

***


	11. Hot chocolate mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "Yeah, uh, alcohol doesn't go in hot chocolate", Hunniper by default.

Hunnigan went out to the porch and took a seat next to Helena on the swing. It was dark and relatively cold outside, but Helena wasn’t even wearing a jacket; she’d hurried outside in such a hurry she hadn’t stopped to grab it. Hunnigan gave it to her and she accepted it, slipping her arms into the sleeves and slumping back in the seat.

“Well… what happened there was terribly uncomfortable,” Hunnigan said and Helena exhaled deeply, nodding her head in agreement.  
“Totally, I don’t understand what went wrong,” she responded and Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow. She sincerely hoped Helena was being sarcastic.

“I have an idea of what it might have been.”  
“Oh?”

“Yeah, uh, alcohol doesn’t go in hot chocolate,” she commented when Helena poured bourbon into her mug from a flask.  
“That’s where you’re wrong, because here it goes, see, blending in perfectly,” Helena smirked, held up her mug and swirled the liquid in it for a moment.

“Be that as it may, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t have more,” Hunnigan said and took the mug away from the younger woman.  
“It wasn’t that bad…”

“Honey, you threw up in my father’s lap in the middle of Christmas dinner, it was that bad,” Hunnigan said, barely stifling a chuckle, because as awkward as it had been, the look on their faces had been hilarious.  
“Hot chocolate and alcohol had nothing to do with that, I just got nervous when he started wielding that carving knife,” Helena shrugged it off and Hunnigan scoffed.

“Yeah, sure, you are the type who throws up when nervous,” she drawled sarcastically. Helena was anything but the nervous type usually, if anything she could be overconfident to the point of going into dangerous situations head first without even looking or thinking twice.

“You can’t really blame me for getting nervous, he’s a big, scary guy and he happens to hate me,” Helena defended herself.  
“He hates everyone, don’t take it personally,” Hunnigan comforted, linked her arm with Helena’s and leaned into her side.

“Pft, it’s kind of hard not to. He looked at me once and made this face like he was looking at a bad cut of rancid meat,” Helena scoffed. “He’d already decided to hate me anyway, I’m glad I threw up in his lap!” she then added in an angry mutter, narrowing her eyes, and Hunnigan chuckled quietly.

“I love you,” she said and turned to kiss Helena’s cheek softly.  
“I’m glad someone does,” Helena smirked. “Can I have my hot chocolate back?”

“Are you gonna throw up on me if I say no?”  
“I’ll probably do that either way,” Helena shrugged and Hunnigan scoffed amusedly and gave the mug back.

“I love you,” Helena then said.  
“You’re talking to the hot chocolate, aren’t you?”

“Naturally,” Helena grinned and took a sip of her drink.  
“I’m sorry I dragged you with me, I should’ve at least warned you about just how much of a jerk my dad can be. He doesn’t even have to say anything, he’s like… mastered the looks of disapproval and disdain. I’ve received a few myself during my lifetime,” Hunnigan apologized.

“Oh, really? I can’t imagine you ever getting yourself in trouble like that,” Helena chuckled and offered Hunnigan a drink from the mug. Hunnigan shrugged one shoulder a little and took a sip. She made a face at the taste; there was way too much bourbon in the drink.

“I’m actually the loser of the family as far as he’s concerned, believe it or not.”  
“Okay. Not.”

“It’s true! Imagine his disappointment when I didn’t go to law school and take the path in my life that he’d ever so carefully planned out for me.”  
“Oooh, you must’ve never lived that down.”

“I didn’t. Doesn’t matter to him that what I do is actually more meaningful than defending sleazebags in court. It also doesn’t matter to him that I like my job.”  
“He probably hates your job even more now that he knows your job is why you met me,” Helena smirked and Hunnigan laughed.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re still doing better than the last person I brought over to meet the parents.”

“I don’t see how that is possible, but go on,” Helena encouraged and sipped her hot chocolate which by now had already gone cold and was more bourbon than chocolate milk. Hunnigan tightened her grip on Helena’s arm and leaned into her once more, resting her head on her shoulder and crossed one leg over the other, pushing back a little to move the swing back and forth slowly.

“I was nineteen and brought a boy over, and for some reason he thought my dad would be impressed by the same kind of adolescent tricks my boyfriend’s buddies seemed to be impressed with.”  
“Like what?”

“Like igniting his Zippo by casually swiping it against his thigh. He didn’t notice some of the lighter fluid leaked out and soaked into his jeans, and he ended up literally setting his own pants on fire, and my dad… without missing a beat or even blinking an eye, told him to his face that he’s got to be the world’s biggest dumbass.”

“That doesn’t sound as bad as me throwing up on him.”  
“Not at first, but no matter what the look he gave you or what you did, he didn’t question or insult your intelligence, which is actually kind of a big deal.”

“I love you for trying to make me feel better, but you don’t have to. Besides, I don’t really care if he doesn’t like me, it’s not him I’m dating,” Helena smirked and turned to kiss Hunnigan’s forehead.  
“Come on, let’s go inside and go to bed, that way it’ll be morning sooner and we can get out of here,” Hunnigan said and patted Helena’s knee.

“Can I sneak into your room, like… by climbing along a downpipe or something to avoid any possibility of running into your father?”  
“Sure, but how much you wanna bet you’d end up climbing through my parents’ bedroom window right when he’s getting out of the shower he’s probably still taking to get rid of your puke?” Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.

“Point taken. Let’s go,” Helena said and hurried up.

Helena snuck upstairs and into Hunnigan’s room while Hunnigan went to say good night to her mother and siblings.

“Oh, Christ on a cupcake, that was terrible,” Helena mumbled to herself once she was safe and sound behind the closed door of Hunnigan’s room. Frankly, she hadn’t been expecting to make a great first impression; she knew that he was all about appearances and his reputation, and having someone like Helena -who, as far as he was concerned, came from a social class that was beneath his- date his daughter was a nightmare to him.

“Here, mom sent you this for your… uhm… upset stomach,” Hunnigan said as she entered the room with a cup of ginger tea.  
“That is so nice of her,” Helena chuckled and accepted the tea. “Why is someone as sweet as her married to such a grouch as your dad?”

“I’m thinking she must’ve lost a bet or something.”  
“Either that or she was some kind of a monster in a previous life…”

“Naw, I know my dad can be really horribly crude and indifferent and a jerk, but he has his moments of being sweet. At least I think he does. That’s what mom and my little brother say anyway,” Hunnigan smirked.

Helena drank the tea and sat on the edge of the bed, sighing deeply. His obvious dislike of her did bother her a little, even if she didn’t actually feel the need to be liked by him. She was the first to admit that Hunnigan probably could’ve done better than a hothead who grew up on the worse side of town. But at the same time, Helena didn’t feel he was being exactly fair.

He’d barely spoken two words to her, he hadn’t been interested in knowing anything of her after finding out she was “just a field agent”. If one wasn’t an executive something, he wasn’t interested. What a petty way of judging people. If he had bothered getting to know the first thing about her, he would know that she loved his daughter, deeply and genuinely, and had he not been such a snob, that would’ve been all he needed to know.

“Hey. You know I love you, right?” Hunnigan said and took a seat next to Helena.  
“Yes. And that’s all I needed to know,” Helena smiled and put the tea away before kicking her shoes off and settling to lie down on the bed, patting the empty space next to her. Hunnigan followed her example and went next to her, resting her head on Helena’s shoulder and wrapping her arm around her midsection, exhaling deeply in the comfortable sweetheart’s cradle Helena held her in.

“…what are you doing?” Helena then murmured when Hunnigan slipped her hand underneath the hem of Helena’s T-shirt slowly slid it higher, pausing to gently stroke the contours of Helena’s abs before proceeding up to run her fingertips over the soft underside of Helena’s breast.

“Touching you inappropriately?” Hunnigan grinned.  
“Hunnigan, we are at your parents’ house,” Helena exclaimed quietly and Hunnigan chuckled.

“I know, wouldn’t it be so decadent?” Hunnigan whispered and covered the side of Helena’s neck in tiny gentle kisses, slowly trailing her lips over Helena’s jawline and finally kissed her lips.  
“I’m convinced you actually brought me over here because you planned to have your dad murder me or something,” Helena muttered into the kiss and Hunnigan burst out laughing.

“Like he’d ever know, I can be very quiet.”  
“I can’t, and you know that.”

“It’s hardly my fault.”  
“It’s _all_ your fault. Well, you and your incredibly talented and elegant magic fingers…. oh-kay, I gotta stop thinking about them,” Helena exhaled deeply and Hunnigan chuckled, raised her hand and wiggled her fingers in front of Helena’s face.

“Stop that,” Helena chuckled, grabbed Hunnigan’s wrist and kissed her palm before gripping her hand in her own and held it against her chest.  
“Okay, okay, sorry,” Hunnigan smiled and settled to lie back down.

“You can make it up to me when we get home,” Helena murmured.  
“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“Well… you know that thing you said you’d do on our wedding night?”  
“I never agreed to that.”

“Yes, you did, you said we should save that for our wedding night, whenever that’ll be.”  
“It’ll be never, if you insist on that idea of yours.”

“Oh, come on.”  
“Helena, I am not dressing up as a nun for you.”

“I’m beginning to see the family resemblance between you and that grouchy father of yours.”  
“Okay, that’s not gonna work either,” Hunnigan chuckled.

“Ah, worth a shot,” Helena said and shrugged one shoulder a little. “And for the record, I was never serious about the nun-outfit.”  
“You could’ve fooled me,” Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.

“Honestly, I just wanted to see the look on your face if I suggested it.”  
“All right, so how can I actually make it up to you now that I’ve made it perfectly clear that the nun-thing is not an option?”

“First, I would want a full body massage, and then you could let me go down on you,” Helena suggested innocently.  
“‘Let’ you? You make that sound like you must coax me into it, which isn’t true. I mean, my God, if anyone who didn’t know what was happening saw us, they’d think I was trying to drown you down there,” she murmured.

“I can just imagine it. My last words would be ‘thank you, darling, glub, glub, glub’.”  
“Ew,” Hunnigan made a face and they both burst out laughing.

“Ah, I love being ridiculous with you,” Helena exhaled deeply and smiled happily.  
“You know, this was the most fun Christmas I’ve had in a long time, and it’s all thanks to you throwing up in my father’s lap.”

“Who would’ve thought, huh?”  
“I know, right? I can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with next year to top this one,” Hunnigan teased and Helena decided to play along.

“To be continued then, I suppose,” she grinned and kissed Hunnigan’s lips gently.

“I love us,” Hunnigan chuckled and nuzzled her neck tenderly.  
“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

***


	12. Freezing hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to the prompt  
> “Here, take me blanket/jacket.” - “I told you, I’m not cold.” *shivering* Hunniper

Hunnigan pushed her glasses to her forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing internally. She’d known this would happen, because it happened every time. She wasn’t above admitting that she herself had once been exactly as stubborn as Helena was being right now, but she’d grown out of that to realize she’d rather be comfortable… which meant she had learned through experience that wearing high heels on a day you’re supposed to spend literally eight hours on your feet was a terrible idea, and that going out on a chilly winter evening without a proper jacket was just plain stupid. But far be it from her to say it out loud, and far be it from Helena to admit she’d made a huge mistake when leaving the house in just a collared shirt.

“Here, take my jacket,” Hunnigan said.  
“I told you, I’m not cold,” Helena argued, obviously not realizing just how ridiculous her argument was considering she was shivering as she spoke.

“Of course you’re not, but I’m hot because I dressed sensibly and then wore this jacket specifically so that I could give it to you when you… get _not_ cold at all,” Hunnigan shrugged nonchalantly, still holding out her hand with the jacket hanging from the hook of her finger.

“Thanks, mom,” Helena scoffed and rolled her eyes, and was about to finally give in and accept the jacket, when Hunnigan pulled it out of her reach.  
“Really, Helena?” she said and did that “slightly quirked eyebrow and pursed lips of disapproval”-look Helena was more than familiar with after having been on the receiving end of it so many times.

“Well, if you don’t want me to ‘mom’ you, then stop treating me like a child.”  
“I will, once you stop behaving like one.”

“Then I suppose we’ve reached an impasse.”  
“Oh, good Lord,” Hunnigan sighed and finally handed the jacket over to Helena before turning on her heel and heading back toward the way they’d come from. “I’m going home.”

“Wait, what? Seriously, we’re gonna fight over this?”

“Not over this, but over the fact that you are intentionally antagonizing me over the dumbest little things just because you want an argument so that you won’t miss me as much as you know you would if you weren’t angry at me over nothing. You do this every fricking time you have a mission coming up, so, have it your way!” Hunnigan called back over her shoulder as she walked away with long, agitated strides.

“What are you talking about?” Helena frowned and went after her.

“About a little behavioral pattern I’ve noticed you have! You start a fight with me every single time, and every single time you completely ignore just how bad I feel knowing that you’re out there, possibly getting into life threatening situations, and I just have to accept that maybe my last words to you were akin to something like ‘piss off’ because _you_ pissed _me_ off the day before leaving, just like you’re doing right now!” Hunnigan ranted and then cleared her throat a little awkwardly when she realized a few heads were turning as the people walking by overheard her.

“Forget it,” she muttered to Helena then and continued walking away.  
“Well, I’m sorry!”  
“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for!”

"Of course I do... not!"

* * *

Helena put out her cigarette and sighed. She would’ve gladly stayed chain smoking on the porch for another half an hour rather than go inside and face Hunnigan, but she was out of cigarettes. She didn’t mind admitting she’d been wrong and childish even; what she hated more than having to admit to that was the fact that she hadn’t even noticed the behavioral pattern in herself until Hunnigan had pointed it out.

She hated realizing how much hurt she’d caused over the past couple of years they’d been together, and she’d rather left for a mission angry than feel sad about having to be apart. Hunnigan wasn’t even her designated field operations support agent since they’d made their relationship public knowledge at the agency (admittedly, a smart decision made to avoid any possibility of there being any questions regarding conflict of interest) which meant they weren’t usually in any contact during Helena’s deployments, and she hated it. Being angry was easier and more useful than being sad.

…but, that didn’t mean it made her behavior acceptable.

Helena went inside and headed into the study where she knew Hunnigan would be. Busying herself with work was how she dealt with frustration… unless her work was the source of the frustration, in which case she usually went for a run or took out her frustration by cleaning. She’d broken more than one plate while agitatedly doing the dishes, and Helena knew to back away slowly and come back with chocolate or flowers if she came home and realized everything was a bit too spotless.

Helena stood behind Hunnigan’s chair and leaned down, wrapping her arms around Hunnigan from behind and nuzzled into the top of her head. Hunnigan didn’t acknowledge her, she didn’t even stop typing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring a jacket,” Helena said and Hunnigan slammed her hands onto the keyboard and turned her head to look in Helena’s general direction.  
“Seriously, Helena?” she scoffed, and Helena chuckled softly before straightening her back.

“No, not really, I just needed to get you to stop working,” Helena said and sat on the corner of Hunnigan’s desk.

“You’re sitting on Ada Wong,” Hunnigan muttered and glanced at the folder under Helena’s buttocks. There wasn’t much in the folder since no one knew much anything of the spy. Hunnigan had never been able to quite decide what to do about her since she wasn’t exactly an ally, but she wasn’t exactly an enemy either. Instead of assigning agency resources to figuring Ada out, she’d made a hobby out of digging up everything she could about Ada. So far, she hadn’t been very successful, which was saying something considering how vast Hunnigan’s and the DSO’s intelligence network was.

“I don’t hear her complaining,” Helena smirked and wiggled around a little.  
“Oh, God, you really are a child,” Hunnigan sighed and was about to return her attention to her laptop when Helena pushed the lid shut.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”  
“About what?”

“About the fights. If you knew why I was doing that, then why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?”  
“Because when you get back from a mission, I’m just so relieved you’re okay that I don’t even care about the fight, and frankly would rather not pick up a stupid, pointless argument right where we left off,” Hunnigan explained.

“How very mature of you,” Helena smirked.  
“One of us has to be an adult.”

“Hey, I’m an old soul…”  
“Yes, which is why you think you know everything, but you don’t, especially not yourself, because you’re still just a kid.”

“Jesus, Hunnigan, I’m twenty-five years old, I’m hardly a kid,” Helena chortled, but Hunnigan wasn’t amused.  
“In a lot of ways, you… you really are,” she sighed.

“Are you saying that because I called you mom?”

“Yes, and no. It’s not about what you said, but about why you said it. Our age difference is a touchy subject to me, and still you say things which remind me of it, and that you say it despite knowing I don’t like the reminder just goes to show you really don’t have a problem intentionally hurting my feelings,” Hunnigan explained until she was almost out of breath, paused to inhale and added, “Either that or then you’re just incredibly inconsiderate.”

“The latter, the latter!” Helena protested, and Hunnigan smirked, leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her abdomen.  
“You do realize you’re not exactly making a good argument for yourself now either?”

“Yes, but I’d rather admit to being an inconsiderate jerk unintentionally than admit to hurting you on purpose,” Helena muttered.  
“Look, Helena… I really don’t know if we can—”

“Don’t say it.”  
“I don’t want to say it, but you can’t deny that—” Hunnigan began, but Helena interrupted her again.

“Don’t underestimate my powers of denial.”  
“Would you stop that!” Hunnigan snapped and stood up, exhaled deeply and left the study, heading to the kitchen. She needed a drink.

“So, what, you want to throw away almost two years just because we’re a little different? I mean, seriously, the age gap isn’t that much even! Hell, I’ve seen eighty-year olds with twenty-somethings and they seem to make it work.”

“Yeah, because he has Viagra and a thick wallet, and she’s mastered the art of leaving her body whenever she has to do something less than pleasant,” Hunnigan muttered as she poured herself a scotch, and Helena tried to remain serious, but she couldn’t; she burst out laughing and even Hunnigan smiled a little.

“And look on the bright side, you get to say ‘I told you so’ to me all the time.”  
“I do that?”

“Constantly.”  
“Yeah, well, that’s because something went wrong, and I warned you it would happen, but you didn’t listen.”

“Yes, you were right, and I was wrong, and you are so much smarter than me, and I’m just a stupid brat who lives in a fantasy world of denial and doesn’t like to carry a jacket even when it’s cold.”  
“Evidently, you can also be a bit of a drama queen,” Hunnigan added and sipped her drink. Helena exhaled deeply and ran her hands over her face in exasperation.

“You tell me you want to dump me because I’m a few years younger than you, and _I’m_ the dramatic one? Give me a break!” she scoffed. “I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings with it, and that’s something you should already know about me. I am a jerk, but never just to hurt you.”

“All right,” Hunnigan said and Helena narrowed her eyes. That was her version of saying “fine” when nothing was fine.  
“I’m sorry, that I don’t stop and think everything over three times before saying it, because I never realized I’d need to, but I suppose I underestimated how god damn insecure you are!” Helena lashed out, and immediately regretted saying it.

“I shouldn’t have…”  
“No, you’re right,” Hunnigan said, finished her drink and poured another one.

“I’ve always dreaded the day you would say those words,” Helena tried joking, but she felt like her insides were on the verge of imploding with anxiety. She went to the counter and followed Hunnigan’s example, proceeding to pour herself a drink.

“So, what happens now?” she asked and leaned her hip into the counter as she sipped the scotch. She resisted the urge to make a face at the taste. She’d never understood how anyone could drink this stuff and actually enjoy it.

 _Maybe I’m not grown up enough to enjoy such things and should just stick to beer… or better yet, juice boxes,_ Helena mused somewhat bitterly.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” Hunnigan exhaled tiredly and shook her head.  
“Hey,” Helena said, put the drink away and stepped to Hunnigan. She put her arms around Hunnigan’s waist and pulled her closer, Hunnigan eased into the movement and put her arms around Helena’s shoulders.

“Whatever happens… I’ll bring a jacket,” she said in mock-seriousness and Hunnigan burst out laughing against the side of Helena’s neck.

“I love you,” Helena smiled and nuzzled Hunnigan’s cheek.  
“I love you too,” she responded and hugged her tightly.

“And yeah, we’re gonna get into stupid arguments, and some are probably gonna be even worse than this, and we’ll make mistakes, and we’ll…” Helena trailed off and sighed. “Point is, there are going to be times when things suck, but we’re gonna figure it out and talk it through, or… scream it through and break a few plates while we’re at it, but at the end of it all… we’ll figure it out, together. Right?”

“Well, look at you being the mature one,” Hunnigan chuckled softly.  
“I know, it’s terrible, I have to go play in a puddle and spend the rest of the day watching cartoons to recover from this,” Helena jested.

“Can I come with you?” Hunnigan smiled as she pulled back from the hug.  
“Of course. Who’d carry my jacket if you weren’t there?” Helena winked and kissed her.

 ***

 

 


	13. Miss September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This used to be its own separate story before I started this anthology, so to keep things tidy, I decided to copy it here. This is a response to "Just... stay" for Hunniper.

At first, Hunnigan had dismissed it as a simple case of envy when she’d looked at Helena and found herself wondering what it was like to have that body. Solid and strong, but still feminine and soft in the right places. It had taken Hunnigan a long time to realize that her feelings weren’t envy; she didn’t want to have that body, she wanted to feel it against her own, underneath her fingertips, she wanted to know if Helena’s skin felt as soft as it looked, she wanted to trail them over the scars Helena had in her shoulder and lower abdomen (scars that Hunnigan found attractive even though she was certain Helena herself probably didn’t feel the same way about them).

  
She wanted to taste Helena’s mouth, let her fingers run through her hair and gently tug on it. She wanted to rake her fingernails over the subtle hills of solid muscle alternating with gentle softness on Helena’s back and shoulders. She wanted to run her tongue over the visible lines of Helena’s hip bones, over the contours of her abdomen. She wanted to cover Helena’s breasts with hungry kisses and soft love bites. She wanted Helena to grab her, pin her into the mattress and take her. She wanted to be left a mess after hours upon hours of rough sex and love making.

  
It wasn’t envy she felt, it was lust. Once the immediate urge had been fulfilled, Hunnigan had come to realize it hadn’t satisfied her, it had left her wanting more. It had pushed her over the edge, her desire had transformed into a need she couldn’t control. She had tried to keep away from Helena, genuinely, but it was impossible now that she knew what it could be like. Helena knew how to work Hunnigan’s body into fits of rapturous passion Hunnigan hadn’t even known existed.

  
Hunnigan had lost track of how many times she’d told herself she wouldn’t do this anymore, and then gone back on her word. It had started when someone at the agency had gotten the brilliant idea to have the DSO agents discreetly posing nude for a calendar while going about their daily chores at work. Hunnigan hadn’t taken part herself, but she’d done what almost every agent had, namely bought the boys’ and girls’ calendars to give as a gift to someone later. After all, the proceeds of the sales went to charity, how could she say no. She’d given the boys’ calendar to her younger sister (who had quite literally drooled over Leon’s picture) and kept the girls’ for herself, not really paying much attention to it until a couple of months ago.

  
 It was almost November now, but Hunnigan’s calendar in her study at home still showed September which featured agent Harper gathering up a lot of gear as if preparing for a mission. What made her photo different was the fact that she wasn’t looking into the camera, not trying to do the whole pouty lips-cleavage-combination almost everyone else was doing. No, Helena was intense, concentrating on what she was doing; she looked like she really was heading out on a mission, she just happened to be nude in the photo (most of her chest and hips hidden behind strategically placed ammo boxes and gear bags of course). In truth, it wasn’t even her nudity that caught the viewer’s attention at first, it was her intensity. The realization that she wasn’t dressed came later.

  
That photo had triggered the staring problem Hunnigan hadn’t been able to shake off, instead she’d found her gaze wandering over to Helena whenever the young woman was close enough to be seen. Hunnigan had to admit she had never been quite as embarrassed as she had been the day Helena had called her out on it.

 _“Hunnigan, you’re staring.”_  
_“Sorry, I was just thinking.”_  
_“About what?”_  
_“...about what your workout routine is like.”_  
_“No, you weren’t.”_  
_“Excuse me?”_  
_“I’m used to being looked at like I’m a piece of meat everyone wants to take a bite out of, so I know that look.”_  
_“Don’t flatter yourself.”_  
_“Hah, all right. But... if you ever want to take a bite... you have my number.”_

  
Hunnigan still had no idea how she’d managed to wait almost three days before actually calling Helena to tell her she’d be happy to take up her offer.

* * *

Helena leaned her head against her palm, resting her weight on her elbow and reached her free hand over to caress Hunnigan’s upper back, trailing her fingers along the sleeping woman’s shoulder blades. Hunnigan inhaled and exhaled deeply, turning to lie on her side.

“What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

“It’s only around ten in the evening. You fell asleep and I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” Helena answered. While that was true, the better reason was she’d hoped Hunnigan would actually spend the night this time. Apparently, that would not be the case tonight either.

“I have to get home,” she mumbled and sat up, rubbing her eyes and reached for her glasses that were on the night stand.  
“Just... stay,” Helena said.

“I can’t.”  
“Why not?” Helena asked as she moved across the bed, stood on her knees behind Hunnigan and wrapped her arms around the other woman, embracing her tightly for a moment before bringing her hands over to gently cup Hunnigan’s breasts.

“We can make love until morning and then you can bring me breakfast in bed,” Helena grinned before sucking on Hunnigan’s earlobe and trailing her lips down along the side of Hunnigan’s neck.  
“Helena, I really can’t,” Hunnigan groaned as she leaned into the younger woman, her words in contradiction with her body’s instinctive reaction to Helena’s presence. Finally, Hunnigan gripped Helena’s wrist and gently but firmly forced her to move her hands away.

“I see,” Helena muttered and got out of bed, “and I suppose asking you to explain to me why you really can’t is asking too much, huh?” she added bitterly then.  
“It’s not that it’s too much, it’s just...” Hunnigan trailed off and sighed deeply as she dressed. Helena ground her teeth together as she angrily pulled a shirt over her head and put on a pair of jeans, trying not to just lose her temper and let the full force of her annoyance show. She’d never been particularly good at hiding her feelings, let alone controlling them.

“No, seriously, just tell me. Why don’t you ever spend the night? What, am I just some... glorified sex toy you can’t even be bothered to have breakfast with, is that it?” she demanded through clenched teeth.  
“No, of course it isn’t! You know I love you!” Hunnigan yelled and stood up furiously, for once being the one to lose her temper first.

“Oh? How would I know that? From where I’m standing, our relationship consists of you coming around when you feel like it, then we fuck and afterward you’re out the door. Doesn’t sound like something you do with someone you love, sounds like something you’d do with a fuckbuddy. That isn’t what I signed up for.”

“Helena, please,” Hunnigan sighed.

“I just... I don’t understand,” Helena shook her head in exasperation and stepped to Hunnigan, taking her hands into her own. When she looked up into Hunnigan’s eyes and saw the troubled and wounded look in them, the realization hit her.

“Oh, my God, you’re already with someone,” Helena exclaimed.  
“Helena...” Hunnigan tried, but the younger woman wasn’t listening.

“How did I not realize that?” she muttered, “I’m so fucking stupid!” she ranted as she pulled away from Hunnigan.  
“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, I should’ve ended it before I ever let anything happen between you and I, but everything happened so quickly and I kept putting it off, and then... things got complicated.”

“Complicated? Complicated!” Helena yelled, her voice breaking as she paced back and forth with her hands on her hips, “How about you take a moment of your oh-so-precious time and fucking explain to me what is so complicated about being honest about this? Or are you really in too much of a hurry to get home before your girlfriend realizes you’re a lousy cheat?” she spat venomously. Hunnigan felt bad hearing her say it like that, but she didn’t have anything she could’ve said in her defense because Helena wasn’t wrong.

“Husband,” she corrected instead of trying to excuse her behavior.

“This just gets better and better,” Helena muttered.

“I honestly already was in the process of filing for divorce before anything happened between us, but as I said, things got complicated, I had to take more things into consideration, and I swear it wasn’t my intention to drag you into this mess, I just... I screwed up. I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Well, sorry won’t cut it! What’s so complicated about it? What, did you just buy concert tickets? Do you want to wait until he gives you your birthday present? No, wait, your birthday is in September, Christmas present then? Did you just get a dog?” Helena ranted through the typical excuse she’d heard people use when putting off breaking up with someone.

“I’m pregnant,” Hunnigan told her, having to admit she felt relieved to be able to say it out loud to someone... even if she knew that the consequences of admitting it might be devastating.  
“Oh, that’s just great!” Helena scoffed sarcastically.

“I should go,” Hunnigan mumbled.

“Don’t! Just... stay,” Helena sighed and stopped her agitated pacing. Hunnigan frowned at the younger woman’s request. Frankly, she’d expected Helena’s reaction to involve a lot more screaming and throwing objects. She certainly hadn’t expected Helena to actually want her to stay, not after what she’d just told her.

Helena stepped to Hunnigan and put her arms around her, pressing her body tightly against Hunnigan’s and nudged them toward the bedroom. Hunnigan gave in and took a few steps back until she was by the bed once more and Helena urged her to lie down. Hunnigan didn’t have the willpower to resist her, but she didn’t even mind as much as she knew she probably should’ve.  
Helena moved to straddle Hunnigan’s hips and leaned over her, nuzzling Hunnigan’s neck for a moment before trailing her lips along the side of it and ventured further down, pausing to softly nip at Hunnigan’s collarbone.

“How’d it happen?” Helena asked, mumbling her words against Hunnigan’s chest as she brought her hands up to unbutton Hunnigan’s shirt.  
“What? What are you talking about?” Hunnigan breathed. Helena pushed her shirt open and covered Hunnigan’s abdomen with tiny, hungry kisses, dragging her mouth upward, across her chest and back to her neck.

“When you got pregnant. I’m assuming you remember. Did you fuck? Or did you make love? Or was it a quickie maybe?” Helena listed as she settled to hover over Hunnigan, resting her weight on her forearms.  
“What are you... I mean, why..?” Hunnigan frowned and Helena shrugged one shoulder.

“It’s a simple enough question, just tell me.”  
“It was lazy morning sex,” Hunnigan finally answered.

“Ah, so _he_ gets morning sex, I can’t even get you to spend the night.”  
“Helena, please... Why are you asking me all this? What difference does it make?”

“I’m asking because I want to know.”  
“Oh, Christ. Okay, uhm... he was spooning me, I woke up feeling hungover and horny...”  
“Hungover?” Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
“I’d been drinking rum, and once I’d drank half of the bottle, I drank the rest just to clean up, really,” Hunnigan offered innocently.  
“That explains the hangover, but not the horny.”

  
“All right, full disclosure? I was in my study, getting drunk because it’s what I like to do every now and then, so I guess I have a problem!” Hunnigan began in a cute voice which surprisingly actually managed to erase the seriousness of the message her words conveyed.

“I haven’t done it since then, for obvious reasons... and I was staring at the calendar, and if you’ll recall, you were miss September.”  
“Go on,” Helena said and Hunnigan sucked on her lips awkwardly as she tried to think of a way to word it. Finally, she clicked her tongue and sucked in a hissing breath through clenched teeth.

“And I was going to go to bed and masturbate but I evidently passed out before I got very far with it,” she babbled quickly.

“Tell me about him,” Helena then said and Hunnigan sighed. She really didn’t want to.  
“His name is Thomas and he’s a good man.”  
“So why do you want to divorce him?”

“Because I don’t love him,” Hunnigan said ruefully.  
“You must’ve at some point. Why did that change?”

“I fell in love with you and I know that wouldn’t have happened if I’d loved Thomas the way I should. But I don’t. As I said, he’s a good man, and I think he deserves better than a wife who... doesn’t love him anymore and cheats on him,” Hunnigan muttered, turning to look away, feeling more ashamed now when she admitted it all out loud.

“Are you going to keep the baby?” Helena then asked, bringing up the elephant in the room.

“I wasn’t sure if I would at first. But then I thought... this may be my last chance, I’m not getting any younger. And as far as the father’s contribution goes, Thomas is a good candidate. Biologically speaking, I mean. I know he doesn’t want kids, which is just another reason for us to go our separate ways.”

“I take it you don’t intend to tell him.”  
“I don’t, unless I have to. Legally I’m not obligated to, especially since I’m not expecting anything from him. He’ll be better off not knowing.”

“Maybe, but I doubt he won’t figure it out. Or  you could tell him it’s another guy’s kid.”  
“That would unnecessarily cruel,” Hunnigan muttered and pushed herself to sit up, and Helena moved off of her.

“So... after you divorce him... then what?” Helena asked in a quiet mumble.  
“I don’t know. Nothing?”

“Huh...”  
“What are you really asking?” Hunnigan inquired tiredly.

“I’m asking if you’d ever considered that you and I could...” Helena trailed off and judging from Hunnigan’s exasperated sigh, she hadn’t thought about it.  
“What, I divorce Thomas and then you and I run off into the sunset and raise a little family together? That is an adolescent fantasy, real life doesn’t work that way.”

“Says who?” Helena challenged.  
“Says me. We’ve been together for barely two months and I’ve only just now told you about the baby, you can’t possibly claim you have made up your mind about it already.”

“Maybe I haven’t, but what difference does that make? You said you were going to divorce him and keep the baby anyway, what are you really risking by taking a chance with me? Nothing, that’s what. I’m not going anywhere,” Helena promised sincerely.

“Then... neither am I,” Hunnigan whispered and for the first time since they’d been together, she spent the night, deciding that it didn’t matter whatever would come after, not right now. She couldn’t predict it, she might as well stop wasting her time trying to and rather enjoy what she had now.

Waking up in Helena’s arms the next morning, Hunnigan felt more alive than she had in years.

 ***

 


	14. Excuse me, wrong number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon didn't mean to send that to Hunnigan, he swears.  
> (This drabble used to be its own story but to keep things tidy, I copied it here)

* * *

  **This drabble was inspired by this amazing art created by[Oceanmyhope](https://oceanmyhope.tumblr.com/). :3 See it in full size over [here.](http://i.imgur.com/Ysg4px6.jpg)**

* * *

 Hunnigan stopped in her tracks, her grip on the handle of her briefcase loosening enough for the item to slip away from her and fall onto the floor with a resounding thud.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped, an almost hysterical laughter beginning to bubble inside her, the harder she tried to contain it, the more she needed to laugh. Judging from the heat she felt on her cheeks, she was certain her face was burning red. She cleared her throat, picked up her briefcase and headed over to the privacy of her office where she could let out the uncontrollable laughter and take a closer look at the picture Leon had sent her.

In it, he stood naked, his left hand cupped over his manhood to hide it. Actually, no, he wasn’t naked; he was wearing a studded leather collar, eyeglasses and a pouty little smile which, Hunnigan had to admit, was kind of adorable.

“What do you think?” Leon asked in the message following the picture. Hunnigan sat down, raising her feet onto her desk and leaned back in her chair, pursing her lips as she contemplated on what to answer to him. On one hand, she was tempted to drag this out and see how long it would take before he’d realize he’d sent this to the wrong person. Or, Hunnigan sincerely hoped it was an accident, because if it wasn’t, he’d have a lot of explaining to do. On the other hand, she didn’t really have the heart to tease him, he’d surely be mortified enough as it was.

“I think you have the wrong number... and that you seriously need to reconsider those frames, they kind of look like you took them from your grandmother. I’ll take you frame-shopping next week, could update my own too while I’m at it,” Hunnigan responded.

“You’ll never let me hear the end of this, will you?” Leon then commented.  
“I’ll consider it if you start bringing me lovely and expensive souvenirs from the places you visit when you’re deployed,” Hunnigan typed back, chuckling softly to herself.

"The best I can do is bring you snow globes.”  
“Just for that, I am forwarding this to Helena. I will forward this picture to the entire agency if you ever make jokes like that again.”

"Luxury soaps and rubies it is then.”

“Good man.”


	15. Fiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon might as well be a fictional character, that's how out of reach he is as far as Hunnigan is concerned. Or, at least, that's what she thought.  
> (this used to be its own separate story, but I'm tidying up the place and copied this here for that reason)

Hunnigan lay on her back on the floor of her office when Leon entered without knocking, as always, because he was just arrogant enough to keep forgetting that not even he had the right to just barge in. But, at least he wasn’t a prick about it, which couldn’t be said for a lot of other agents who had taken the same privilege of unapologetically just walking into her office and then proceeded to lean to her desk and ask her to make them coffee. Granted, he was the only one who hadn't stopped doing that even after she'd reminded him, in an icy tone, that she could get him fired.

“Are you flirting with me?” Leon grinned, pausing to lean his shoulder to the door frame, crossing his arms over his abdomen and his legs at the ankles as he decided to shamelessly take a moment to enjoy the view.

“I’ve decided to start meeting people lying down, makes me look thinner and pulls my face back so it’s like a natural facelift,” Hunnigan commented.

_Downside is my tits slip under my arms, but it’s a sacrifice I am willing to make._

"Thinner? Are you on a diet again?" Leon quirked an eyebrow.  
"What do you mean _again_?" Hunnigan scoffed. Leon knew better than to respond, especially after the time he'd walked in on her losing her temper while trying to peel an orange which had ended in her throwing it into the wall, screaming at it that it can just fuck off.

“It’s my back, it doesn’t appreciate all this sitting I’ve been doing lately,” Hunnigan explained, “And if you say one word to me about yoga, I will literally murder you… once I can get myself up from the floor,” she then added, shaking her finger at him to pre-emptively silence him. It was bad enough her sister kept telling her what she thought Hunnigan should do, she didn’t want to hear that lecture from Leon too.

“I can see your underwear."  
"Good, it cost me fifty bucks!" Hunnigan retorted and he chuckled.

"Did you need something?" Hunnigan then asked.  
"No, just wanted to check in on you and ask you if you felt like playing a game called 'We're just friends but I'd sleep with you if you asked'", Leon jested.

"The answer is still a solid no, as it has been for a decade."  
"Why you insist on depriving yourself my wonderful company is beyond me."

"Well... I like you how I like my coffee," Hunnigan began and sat up, grunting loudly through clenched teeth at the sharp pain in her lower back the movement brought out.  
"...you'd like me in a paper cup with sugar and milk?"

"I don't like coffee," Hunnigan smirked.  
"Oh, I should report to the burn unit," Leon scoffed amusedly and went to her, reaching his arm out and she gripped his forearm, allowing herself to be pulled up. She was lighter than what he'd expected after getting used to lifting women like Helena, who were solid muscle and therefore a lot heavier than they looked, and the force of his tug caused her to crash into his body.

"Sorry! You okay?" he chuckled, his arm reaching around her waist and his free hand making its way to cup her cheek softly to inspect her for any injuries she might have sustained while impacting into his chest.  
"I'm fine," Hunnigan assured, taking a step back somewhat awkwardly, unwillingly becoming too aware of the scent of his cologne -something earthy with an undertone of sweet, like honey bourbon with caramel spiced with the slightest hint of gunpowder still clinging to Leon's clothing from the time he'd spent practicing at the shooting range, mottled with the musk of... him. It was distracting, intoxicating, even for her.

Sure, he'd made a habit of flirting with Hunnigan, but he flirted with a lot of people... the difference was that Hunnigan had never taken him seriously. Brushing him off as a playboy had been easier... and not completely wrong either. That was what their relationship had been like since forever; he flirted with her, she made it clear she never took him seriously. How could she?

As far as she was concerned, he might as well have been a character from the comic books she'd read as a kid. _Sandman_ or the likes, fictional and out of reach, never going to happen... but it hadn't stopped her from developing strong feelings for them. Leon fell into the same category. She cared for him, loved him in a way even, but she knew that there was no universe in which she could realistically ever end up together with him. So, dismissing him (and the little twitches and aches she felt for him) had been easy. Except... when he was right there, invading her personal space with his muscular being and his handsome face, and his scent invading her senses. Those things weren't fictional. He wasn't fictional.

"You sure?" Leon asked, his voice low and so soft it made silk pale in comparison.  
"Yes, I'm fine," Hunnigan assured and he let her go, but she noticed he hesitated before doing so.

 _You're imagining things,_ Hunnigan told herself. Of course she was, how or why would someone like Leon ever want someone like her? Unless it was for the sake of him being able to later brag about bedding her, and she sure as hell wasn't about to give him the chance to do that. Not even if right now she wouldn't have minded the act at all.

"Listen, Hunnigan..."  
"It's just minor backpain. Hell, could even just be caused by Aunt Flo's upcoming visit," she interrupted him, hoping that even the veiled mention of periods would be enough to scare him away. It usually worked with almost anyone, especially the males.

"Good to know, I'll mark it on my calendar so I'll know when to throw chocolate at you," he smirked instead of awkwardly stammering and backing away slowly. Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow. He certainly wasn't easily intimidated.

"Great, then I can blame you the next time I find myself having to go on a diet," she smirked and he smiled, shaking his head a little, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He put his hands on his hips and shrugged a little.

"I did actually come by for a reason, but then I made the stupid comment about you flirting with me and figured you wouldn't pay me any heed even if I spoke seriously after that," he said.  
"Frankly, I've given up expecting you to be serious," Hunnigan admitted, pressed her palms against her lower back and pushed her pelvis forward, her mouth opening in a silent "Ow, fuck that hurts" as she moved and the feeling of what she imagined was the equivalent of having a knife twisted in her back must've felt like lanced through her.

"I know... and while I appreciate that and how much ridiculous crap I get away with because of it... I mean, any other agent behaving the way I do with you... they wouldn't have gotten away with it..."  
"Yeah, well, just continue being worth the trouble and you will continue to get away with it," Hunnigan dismissed, now leaning forward, gripping her ankles with her hands to help stretch her back the other way around; making sure she was facing toward Leon rather than away from him and offering him a generous view of her backside.

"...would you take me seriously now?" Leon asked. Hunnigan straightened up slowly, her back still hurting, but she ignored it. Who knew, maybe she'd need to give up and just try yoga. Or muscle relaxants. Preferably those. She was busy as she was, she didn't have the time to be constantly late for yoga too on top of everything else.

"Yes?"  
"Have dinner with me. No jokes, no stupid pick-up lines. Just... me seriously asking you out."

"To what end, Leon?" Hunnigan sighed. She wanted to say yes, God only knew how badly, but once again... thinking logically...

  
"I don't know. I was thinking... a big house with a white picket fence and a garden where we could grow our own vegetables... two kids, a boy and a girl, obviously... and a dog, a German shepherd maybe," Leon suggested and Hunnigan narrowed her eyes at him. She wanted to believe him, she wanted the things he'd mentioned (except, maybe a cat or two instead of a dog, but she was willing to negotiate). But... on the other hand, he was still just a fictional character as far as she was concerned. It might have as well been Mickey Mouse who was offering her these things, the odds of it all happening in real life were just as non-existent.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she dismissed him with a joke.  
"Only to the ones who have told me they don't like coffee, so I'm forced to skip to the second step," Leon countered, grinning a little.

"And here I thought the common stereotype about moving super fast applied only to lesbians."  
"I don't know, you'd have to ask Helena about that," he winked and Hunnigan let out an amused scoff.

"Jokes aside..." Leon then said and stepped to her, reaching to grip her hands in his. His, that were elegant like a musician's but rough like a fighter's, the skin of his palms hardened by years of training at the gym and the shooting range. He had beautiful hands. Strong and masculine, the veins running across the backs of them, up and over his wrists, disappearing into his forearms and biceps. Leon Scott Kennedy and his God damn beautiful hands and the sexy joints of his fingers and especially the oddly intoxicating roughness of his skin against the feminine softness of her own.

"...have dinner with me. If that won't be enough to convince you to share that house and a garden and two kids and a dog with me, then I promise I'll leave you alone, but give me a chance."

"...all right. But, I want the subject of pets to be up for discussion. I might want cats instead of a dog."  
"You got it," he smiled sweetly and slowly leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him by softly pressing her index finger over his lips.

"A challenge, eh?" he quirked an eyebrow.  
"What's the matter? Too much of a woman for you?" she taunted and he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a sweet smile curving his mouth as he gently cupped her cheeks with his palms, pressed a soft kiss onto her forehead and pulled back then, regarding her with genuine affection.

"Not at all... but maybe just the right one."

 

*** **  
**

 


	16. Waiting for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This also used to be its own separate story, but I decided to add it here instead.

* * *

This little drabble was written to go with this image of Hunnigan that was created by the ever amazing [Oceanmyhope](https://oceanmyhope.tumblr.com/)

 

* * *

Being in relationship with a field agent was the toughest things Hunnigan had ever done in her life without even realizing just how complicated it would actually be. On the surface, there were the same problems everyone else's relationships had to endure, but underneath it, another layer of things not everyone could understand.

The constant worry, amplified by the fact that the person out there, fighting for their life (literally) was someone you loved. The arguments the concern brought up when Hunnigan couldn't help herself from picking a fight when Helena was about to deploy, because she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye; it was easier if she was angry at the younger woman... for whatever reason.

_Women,_ Leon would scoff if he knew what Hunnigan was thinking, and she wouldn't necessarily argue with him. She was the first to admit that it took a special kind of fucked up to intentionally start a fight with someone you loved just because you were terrified of losing them and wanted saying goodbye to be easier... but she was not willing to admit it would be something only the females of the species would do.  
  
But then, to all the heartache and the worry, there was the upside. The euphoric high that came with the relief of seeing Helena walk through that door when she came home. The couple of days off from work to "recover", which meant they had the time to just stay in bed and love each other to make up for all the lost time.

The sweet little aches Helena's love bites left behind and that Hunnigan would feel all over her body for days after. Helena's scent on the sheets and on Hunnigan's fingers. The after taste of her coffee and cigarette kisses that lingered on Hunnigan's lips. The feeling of warmth fluttering in her chest when she saw the way Helena looked at her; like she was a goddess, and the way Helena made her feel like one even during the days Hunnigan herself definitely didn't feel like the goddess she was seen as.

The simple pleasure of just being unconditionally loved. It transcended everything.

_Come home soon, Helena..._

 


	17. Maybe tomorrow is a better day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to 
> 
> -I bet it’s a boy.  
> -I bet it’s a turtle. 
> 
> for Cleon.

_One of these days, Leon, one of these days… pow! Right in the kisser!_ Hunnigan’s text threatened and Leon chuckled. He began to type a response, but before he’d gotten the first word out, she’d already followed her previous message with another one. How she did it so quickly was beyond him, his method of typing on his phone was using his index finger and having to re-type every second word at least three times because he kept hitting the wrong key.

_Just kidding. Sure, I’ll work something out, you just focus on Claire._

Typing back a simple “thank you” took him longer than he wanted to admit. He turned his phone off and got into the room, nodding silent “hello and bye” to the couple that passed him. He took a seat next to the hospital bed and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.

“I bet it’s a boy,” he commented in a hushed tone as Claire’s roommate exited the room with his very pregnant wife.  
“I bet it’s a turtle,” Claire muttered, and Leon barely stifled a laugh.

“That is so mean.”  
“Well, I’m sorry, but you’ve seen the parents, it easily could be.”

“Yup, you’re mean,” Leon repeated, nodding his head.

Not that he could blame her for being that way, he knew a thing or two about withdrawal and how agitated the symptoms associated with it tended to make one. Difference was, when it came to his addiction (which he reluctantly called that, he didn’t consider himself addicted, he could’ve quit drinking anytime, he just didn’t want to), he’d had a choice. Claire hadn’t been given one.

After barely escaping Sushestvovanie island and after being brought into the hospital, Claire had spent the past ten weeks more or less out of it and under the influence of heavy and extremely addictive pain medication, and the past two weeks on medication designed to help her overcome the worst. Now it was time to quit everything once and for all. Easier said than done.

“Just a day or two more and you’ll be over the worst,” Leon repeated the same thing he’d been telling her for the past three days, and it did nothing to make her feel better. Rather, it made her want to punch him in the face for offering her such platitudes.

“Speaking of addiction, when are you going to quit drinking?” she inquired, her tone a bit more venomous than she’d intended it to be. Leon heard it, but decided not to take it personally.  
“When I can be sure that the accumulative hangover won’t kill me,” he smirked, and Claire scoffed.

There was a knock on the door and Claire’s doctor entered the room. Leon offered to excuse himself, but Claire said it wasn’t necessary. The doctor checked through her paperwork once more, asked a few questions about how she was feeling (to which Claire responded honestly contrary to what Leon had expected or would’ve done himself in her position) and then proceeded to tell her that she could go home. He then instructed her to make an appointment with the physical therapist, wished her a speedy recovery and with that, she was cleared to check herself out from her hospital.

Leon kind of would’ve wanted to protest and demand that she gets to stay a few more days, but he supposed arguing over it wouldn’t have made a difference, especially not since he knew that Claire would be the first to say she wanted to go home. Not long after that, she was sent on her way with a pair of crutches and a note with the date and time of her first physical therapy session written on it.

“Here, let me…” Leon began to say when they got to the car, but she glared at him with such intensity he left the rest of it unsaid.

“I’m not an invalid,” she muttered, rested her weight on her right arm and the crutch while tucking the other one under her arm and yanked the door open herself rather than accept Leon’s assistance.  
“I know you’re not, but that doesn’t mean you have to do everything by yourself,” he said gently as he took the crutches and put them in the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat himself.

“I’m sorry, Leon,” she sighed and ran a hand over her face tiredly. “I shouldn’t snap at you, you’ve been nothing but patient, you don’t deserve this kind of abuse,” she added in a mutter.  
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault,” he assured, and she exhaled deeply again. His words, kind as they were, didn't make her feel any better about it.

* * *

  
The physical aches and pains and even the discomfort of the withdrawals were something Claire could manage. The nightmares and the depression brought on by having to accept that she’d abandoned Moira and left her for dead, however, were something she couldn’t handle. With her mind cleared from the fog the medication had cast over it before, the memories became disturbingly vivid.

“I have to go back, Leon,” she muttered and sniffled a little, her runny nose and her tears leaving behind a wet patch onto the chest of his T-shirt as she cried when he held her.  
“I know,” Leon whispered and kissed her forehead. “I wish I could come with you,” he then mumbled against the top of her head.

“As good as Hunnigan is, I doubt even she could arrange more time off for you,” Claire chuckled ruefully, slowly pulled back from the hug and wiped her eyes.  
“Maybe we could make this an official mission,” Leon shrugged one shoulder, smiling a little.

“Sadly, I don’t believe this falls under the DSO’s jurisdiction, and even if you managed to convince Hunnigan otherwise, this is still my job. You’re the fighter, I’m the rescuer, and this is a rescue mission,” Claire smiled a little.

Realistically, she doubted there was anyone left to rescue. Even if Moira had somehow survived the explosion, what were the odds that she was still alive, or would be by the time Claire had recovered enough to go back there? This wasn’t the first time she’d gone against all odds, and based on past experience, she knew she was capable of beating them… but today, that didn’t comfort her much.

“Try to get back to sleep. You have an appointment with your physical therapist in the morning,” Leon then said quietly.  
“I hate that crap,” Claire grumbled as she settled to lie back down.

“I know, but you need it and evidently, you can not be trusted to do your exercises without supervision,” Leon smirked, and he was right. It didn’t matter that she knew it was necessary and that the leg, hip and shoulder she’d injured the worst when she’d fallen into the ocean would grow unbearably stiff and achy if she didn’t do her stretches and weight training, but she still hated doing it.

“And just so you know, I’m not going anywhere, you can count on me,” Leon said.  
“I always have.”

"Hey. It'll be all right," Leon then whispered and cupped her face with his hand, running his thumb over her cheek softly. She pressed her cheek against his hand for a moment before turning her head and kissing his palm and finally, interlacing her fingers with his, holding his hand in her own.

“I believe you,” she said and nuzzled into the hollow of his throat, closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. For the first time in months, she meant it and felt it too. It would get better. Maybe tomorrow really would be a better day.

***


	18. She wears boys' underwear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "how about you make me?" for Cleon

Leon stood in the shower, completely ignoring the nagging thought about wasting a precious resource like water in this manner. His aching body needed the soothing feeling the warm cascade of water provided. After everything he’d been through in Tall Oaks and China, he was relatively certain he if anyone had earned a long, hot shower.

He would’ve stayed longer if he didn’t need to go into the office for the debriefing and to finish up on the paperwork. He’d gingerly asked Hunnigan if she could do it for him, and she’d given him what he playfully referred to as “Hunnigan’s level ten death glare™”, aka stared at him over the frame of her tinted glasses with a look that silently and efficiently told him she thought he must be an idiot to even think of asking such a thing.

Leon finally left the bathroom and went to get dressed. As he rummaged through the drawers, he realized he didn’t have any clean underwear left. He didn’t understand how that was possible, he was certain he’d just done the laundry.

_Claire,_ he sighed internally when the realization hit him.

Usually, he didn’t mind it when she borrowed his clothes if it was a shirt or a hoodie, and especially not if he got to see her wear it the morning after she’d spent the night. In fact, the sight of her in his shirt was one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. The way he saw it, his shirt on her was the equivalent of a flag on a conquered fortress. He was sure someone would find the metaphor offensive, so he’d never said as much out loud, not even despite that he never meant it in any demeaning way.

He liked it when she borrowed his shirts because afterward, they smelled of her, and her scent was one he loved wearing. However, Claire’s penchant for stealing his boxers was starting to become an inconvenience. He grabbed his jeans and shirt, and went downstairs.

“Claire? You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to my underwear?” Leon queried as he entered the kitchen where she was standing by the island in the middle of the room, eating a late breakfast.  
“No…” she said slowly and moved a little so that her lower half was hidden behind the counter, the small movement not going unnoticed by him.

“Then why do you look so guilty?” he smirked and took a step toward her, and she took another step to the side to continue remaining hidden.  
“I look pretty, nothing else,” Claire denied.

“Pretty guilty,” Leon said and faked a left before going right and bumping into Claire, who’d tried hiding from him. When he raised the hem of her shirt to see her underwear, he discovered that sure enough, she was wearing his favorite pair of boxer briefs, the ones that had a picture of a shark taking a bite out of the words “Quality meat” on the bum.

“Why do you do this?” he sighed.  
“They’re comfortable,” Claire shrugged.

“They’re mine, and I need them. Give them back, please.”  
“How about you make me?” Claire smirked, and leaned closer to him, faking seriousness and exaggerating her threatening stance.

“If you think I won’t wrestle them from you, you’re wrong.”  
“Well, what’s stopping you? Come at me,” Claire taunted.

“I don’t have the time for this, give me my undies. If I get an awkward boner and Hunnigan notices it, she’ll cut my junk off,” he exhaled deeply. “She has a pair of scissors on her desk, but I know she never does any literal paperwork.”  
“…so, in your mind, the only logical reason for her having the scissors is to cut off boy parts from guys who get awkward boners?” Claire quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes.”  
“And here I thought it was Helena’s job to cut off boy parts from anyone who dares to even think about making a pass at Hunnigan,” Claire smirked, and Leon scoffed amusedly.

“Yeah, but she’s not always around, and that’s when the scissors come in play.”  
“Well, I can see how she could be quite threatening,” Claire said, grabbed her breakfast and was about to casually head into the living room to finish eating, obviously having no intention of returning Leon his underwear.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to distract me,” Leon said and stepped in front of her. “My underwear, please. I can’t have Scott hanging freely all over the place,” he grinned.  
“You’re probably the only man I know who does _not_ want to perform some weird penis puppetry to every woman he sees,” Claire mumbled, put her plate aside and reluctantly began to undress.

“I’m a gentleman and I have some class. Plus, I don’t need to resort to such trickery to impress the ladies,” he wiggled an eyebrow and reached to grab the piece of clothing from her hand, but she yanked it away just before he could.  
“‘Ladies’, as in plural?” she questioned.

“Slip of the tongue, you know you’re the only lady I’m trying to impress.”  
“I’d better be, or you’ll never see your underwear again,” Claire narrowed her eyes.

“You’re holding my underwear hostage?” he scoffed in disbelief.  
“Yeah, and if you don’t behave yourself, I’ll start stretching the waistband until the elasticity is gone and it’s ruined.”

“You monster.”  
“What’s so special about these anyway, can’t you just go commando?” Claire asked and finally let him have his precious underwear.

“Okay, full disclosure? These are designed to hide awkward boners,” he said and put them on, taking a moment to adjust himself.  
“You get a lot of those around Hunnigan, do you?” Claire drawled, and he sighed. Women. Then again, he couldn’t blame her really; how could she have any idea what it was like to live with a body part what was constantly involved in unauthorized activity?

“No, I get them randomly just like every other guy does, it’s just how boy parts work, but as I said, I’m a gentleman and so, I’ve taken measures to remain modest,” he smiled sweetly.  
“Yeah, and I imagine having to give a brief in front of a whole team while sporting an awkward boner would be embarrassing,” Claire teased.

“You jest, but you have no idea,” Leon said and was about to put on his T-shirt, but Claire put her hand over his forearm to stop him.  
“Do those boxers actually work like you said they do?” she said, grinning a little as she pressed herself against him.

“Thankfully, I’ve never really had to test that in action. They’re more of a precaution really,” he answered and cleared his throat a little when she put her arms around him and slid her hands down along his back.  
“I think we should find out if you got your money’s worth,” she said with a sly grin.

“Have I done something to upset you? Or do you just enjoy antagonizing me for no real reason?” he groaned when she gave his buttocks a firm squeeze.  
“Not yet, but you might at some point, this is pre-emptive antagonizing,” she said innocently and leaned to leave soft kisses onto the side of his neck, trailing down to his collarbone, across his chest and back up the other side of his neck.

“Just remember you’ve already done this the next time I mess up and piss you off,” he chuckled and placed his hands onto her hips, realizing only now that she was still nude from the waist down, dressed only in a T-shirt that reached halfway down her thighs; his shirt, of course.

“I will make no such promise,” Claire breathed into his ear, and he inhaled sharply.  
“Okay, no, really, I’m going to be so late,” he sighed and reluctantly took a step back.

“Well, the good news is, your underwear works as it should… unless I’ve lost my touch and nothing’s happening down there,” Claire quirked an eyebrow as she stared at his crotch.  
“Oh, believe me, your touch is just fine…” he trailed off, exhaling deeply.

“Try not to think about it while Hunnigan’s near her scissors,” Claire smiled and grabbed what was left of her breakfast and went to microwave it.  
“Or, actually, if Helena’s in town, I’d imagine she’s busy doing different kind of scissoring,” she then added shrugging a little.

“Oh, my God, Claire!” Leon chortled and finally put on his shirt.  
“Another thing you probably shouldn’t think about when Hunnigan’s nearby,” she chuckled as the microwave beeped.

“Ya think?” he scoffed with a smile as he finished buttoning up the shirt and straightened the collar before pulling his jeans on.  
“How do I look?”

“Not sexually frustrated at all,” Claire grinned and began to hitch the hem of her shirt up slowly, and he sighed in exasperation at her antics.  
“You are in so much trouble when I get back home,” he shook his head, stepped to her and kissed her lips softly.

“I’m counting on it,” she smiled into the kiss.

***


	19. Not so fine dining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "drabble based on which of the OTP drives 20 minutes for those AMAZING chocolate chip cookies at that truck stop (Hunniper)"

“You’re late,” Hunnigan told Helena the moment she opened the door to the apartment.

“And you’re extremely rude if that’s the way you greet the love of your life on our anniversary,” Helena quirked an eyebrow and stepped inside. “Besides, I have a good reason. I wanted cookies, so I went to get some, and that’s why I’m late. You can have one, if you like. _One,_ ” she then added, holding up her index finger to physically emphasize the amount.

“It took you over an hour to get cookies? Where the hell did you get them from, Alaska?” Hunnigan scoffed.  
“No, Baltimore,” Helena responded and took a bite out of a large chocolate chip cookie, completely oblivious to the fact that it had been a rhetorical question.

“…you drove to Baltimore for a box of cookies. Do you even realize how ridiculous that is?”  
“Not just any cookies, these are _amazing_ cookies, and I was specifically craving for these and I’ve never seen them sold anywhere else than that one truck stop there, so I figured, why not,” Helena shrugged.

“I’ll tell you why not; because while you were on your quest for the _‘amazing’_ cookies, we lost our table at the restaurant. Those cookies better be laced with heroin to make them worth it,” Hunnigan ranted as she agitatedly began to take off her jewelry; no need for fancy earrings and bracelets since apparently she would be eating leftovers at home.

“You’re just cranky because you’re hungry, have a cookie,” Helena said with her mouth full, a few crumbs escaping from between her lips as she spoke.  
“Really, Helena? _Really?”_ Hunnigan snapped.

“What?” she frowned, still holding her hand out, the cookie pinched between her fingers.  
“We’ve been married for seven years today and you still don’t remember that stuff like cookies tend to literally destroy my small intestine.”

“I swear, it’s totally worth it.”  
“You’re unbelievable,” Hunnigan muttered and turned on her heel, heading into the kitchen to grab something to eat since the planned dinner at a restaurant wasn’t happening.

Helena finished eating her cookie and put the rest of them down before following Hunnigan. She paused to stand behind her and wrapped her arms around her midsection.

“Don’t even think about it, I’m furious with you,” Hunnigan said and shoved at Helena’s arms, but she stubbornly put them back around her.  
“Do you remember when I asked you out for the very first time?” Helena asked, resting her chin on Hunnigan’s shoulder.

“Yes, you took me to a hot dog stand, and when I told you I’d been expecting you to take me to some place where we could at least sit down to eat, you told me we could go sit in the car,” Hunnigan answered dryly, and Helena nodded.  
“Yeah, and what happened after I finally convinced you to get in the car?” she continued questioning and Hunnigan sighed deeply, bringing her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“…you drove us to the Chrysalis vineyards where you’d arranged a picnic and a wine tasting for us.”

“Right. So, what do you think are the odds that this cookie-scheme is the equivalent of that hot dog stand?” Helena smirked. Frankly, it wasn’t completely a scheme, she really did love those cookies.  
“I’m in no mood for your games.”

“You’re gonna make me spoil the surprise, aren’t you?” Helena sighed a little and tugged on Hunnigan, urging her to turn around so that they were face to face.  
“Okay, look. I cancelled our reservation because I got us one at that place you’ve been talking about non-stop for the past three weeks, but it isn’t until later, so—”

“So, you couldn’t have just called me and let me know?” Hunnigan interjected agitatedly, and Helena offered a lopsided smile.  
“No, because that would’ve ruined the surprise. And it would’ve robbed me the pleasure of making you feel bad when I finally tell you the truth and you realize you lost your temper for nothing.”

“Why do you insist making me feel bad?” Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.  
“Because you always assume the worst of me, like just now, you genuinely thought I’d forgotten important things like your coeliac disease and our anniversary. I mean, give me some credit,” Helena smirked.

“You’re terrible.”  
“I wouldn’t be if you’d learned by now that I’m a romantic schemer, not an inconsiderate jerk, but no; you still think that I forget or that I don’t care, and frankly, that hurts my feelings.”

“I’m sorry, and you’re right, I really should know better by now, but it’s just… I’m not used to being cared for like this.”  
“Not even after seven years?” Helena interjected.

“Seven years versus a lifetime of having to always make a plan B because ninety percent of the time, the person I was supposed to be able to count on let me down. And yes, I know, that is terribly unfair toward you because as you said, you haven’t done anything to deserve it,” Hunnigan said, shaking her head a little. “Well, except constantly pulling stunts like this just because it tickles you,” she then said, narrowing her eyes at Helena, and the younger woman chuckled.

“I like surprising you, and I rarely get away with it because you always know everything two days before it happens, so I need to pull stunts like this,” she said and put her hands on Hunnigan’s hips, pulled her closer and leaned to kiss her lips gently.  
“How do you put up with me?” Hunnigan mumbled into the kiss.

“Well, you’re pretty cute, and great in bed,” Helena teased with a shrug. “And, I suppose I do kind of love you, or something like that, whatever,” she added with a grin.

“I suppose I kind of love you too,” Hunnigan responded in kind and chuckled a little. “I’m sorry I expected the worst. But, from now on… don’t do things like this. I might get used to it and start expecting everything to be more than it is, so imagine the disappointment when there will be that day when a date at a hot dog stand is just a date at a hot dog stand,” she added and Helena gasped softly.

“Oh, God, I hadn’t even realized that.”  
“Yeah, not so great now, is it?”

“Fine, but you still have to make tonight up to me.”  
“What did you have in mind?” Hunnigan asked and Helena paused to think about it. After a while, a mischievous grin rose to her lips and Hunnigan wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear what she had to say.

“The next time I want cookies, _you_ drive to Baltimore to get them.”  
“Tough, but fair,” Hunnigan smiled, having expected something much worse.

“Now… go have a cookie while I get ready for dinner,” Helena said and kissed Hunnigan once more before turning to head to the bedroom to change.  
“You know I—” Hunnigan began to say and Helena turned at the door, leaned to the frame and smirked.

“The other box of cookies is gluten-free, you’re really gonna have to start trusting that I _do_ know you.”  
“I’ll wait until our twentieth anniversary before deciding on that,” Hunnigan called out after her.

"Just for that, I'll mix all the cookies together and you'll never know which ones are safe to eat."  
"I don't care, I don't even like cookies."

"Everyone likes cookies,” Helena said when she emerged from the bedroom, buttoning up a black collared shirt. “How do I look?” she then asked, pausing to do a Superman-pose.

“You could use a little splash of color.”  
“If you’re implying that I should wear blush, it is _you_ who clearly does not know _me,_ ” Helena quirked an eyebrow. Hunnigan smiled and moved to gently grip the tip of Helena’s chin between her thumb and index finger and leaned to kiss her.

“I meant more like wear red bowtie or something,” she said then.  
“Well, bowties _are_ cool…” Helena said slowly, pursing her lips as she thought about it. “But you’ll have to tie it for me.”

“I don’t understand why you haven’t figured out how to do it yourself,” Hunnigan chuckled and went to the closet to get the bowtie.  
“Are you kidding? Of course I know how to do it,” Helena said as she adjusted the collar of her shirt so that Hunnigan could get the bowtie in place. It wasn’t an entire lie, she _could_ do it, but it took her longer than she liked to admit.

“I just really like it when you do it for me,” she added.  
“Mm-hm,” Hunnigan hummed as she tied the bowtie, her eyebrow quirking suspiciously.

“I think that this kind of grooming habits are an underappreciated form of intimacy,” Helena reasoned and Hunnigan scoffed amusedly.  
“Okay, let’s go with that for now,” she said, kissed Helena again and glanced at her watch. “When are we supposed to be at the restaurant?”

“Don’t worry, we'll get there in time,” Helena said and rolled her eyes a little. “Now, come on, Mrs. Hunnigan. You wouldn’t want to be late for your date with the most amazing, most romantic, most gorgeous woman in the world, namely, _moi_ ,” she winked with a grin and offered her arm.

“I certainly would not, Mrs. Harper,” she smiled and linked her arm with Helena’s. “I certainly would not.”

***

 


	20. Hope for a normal life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "which of the OTP is actually scared of deep water (Cleon) "  
> This is set in the same universe as “Someone to watch over me” which is where Leon and Claire have a baby, Seeley. It’s also where the character of Olivia comes from, but if you’ve never read it, all you really need to know about Olivia is that she’s an FOS agent like Hunnigan, but she’s shameless and talks dirty, and she’s very good friends with Claire, Helena, Hunnigan, Leon, and Sherry, but especially with Claire. ...so I hope that's all you needed to know about that, if not then please go read it. :D

Had it been up to Leon, he would’ve spent the day being comfortable in a deckchair with a book and a cold drink, but Claire seemed to be determined to get him into the pool.

“Come on, we’ve been here for two days and you’ve spent those in the hotel room, reading,” she rolled her eyes at him.

“And funnily enough, I still haven’t made it past the first chapter, because _someone_ keeps interrupting me,” Leon smirked and turned back one page because he’d once again forgotten the sentence he’d just read. Frankly, so far, the book didn’t even seem very interesting, but he was determined to finish reading it only because he’d been raised to finish what he started, and that stubborn little quirk was something he carried with him. He did reserve the right to skim past the super boring parts, though.

“Besides, I’m here, aren’t I?” he then asked, took a sip of his drink and adjusted his sunglasses before once more leaning back in the deckchair.  
“I hope you fall asleep and get sunburn,” Claire narrowed her eyes at him and went to the pool.

“Ouch, harsh,” he chuckled and returned his attention to the book. He deemed the next five or so pages boring enough to skip and flipped past them, wishing he’d brought another book with him.  
“This is hopeless,” he muttered and put the book away. He grabbed his phone and began to browse through memes to pass the time, but either he was getting too old to get the jokes anymore or then they genuinely were no longer funny or interesting.

“You know, this is not how I’d hoped we’d spend our vacation,” Claire said, rising to lean against the edge of the pool, resting her weight on her forearms.

“Isn’t the purpose of vacation just relaxing?” he challenged, and decided to use the opportunity to shamelessly stare at her. The way her breasts pushed up as she leaned against the edge of the pool was a sight to behold. He didn’t realize that the sun was shining from behind him which meant she could easily see through his sunglasses and knew exactly what he was looking at.

“You could relax with me in the pool,” Claire shrugged one shoulder and proceeded to tug on the top of her bikini to adjust them a little. It was a needless adjustment she did only to tease him; while he had told her he was what one would call “an ass-man”, she knew he’d be missing her breasts once they’d return to how they were prior to her pregnancy.

Not that she thought he considered himself to be in any position to judge; once you past the magical milestone of thirty years of age, the few pounds you gained while celebrating Christmas by binge eating everything in sight were a lot tougher to shake off, and he wasn't an exception. Leon wasn't the type to comment because he knew how it all worked, for her and for himself. That was just one of the many reasons she loved him.

“I don’t like water. You never know what’s in there,” he shook his head defiantly.  
“Leon, it’s a pool, you can literally see all the way to the bottom, there’s nothing in here… except me,” Claire chuckled and dove in the water.

“Wrong!” he called out and sat up straight. “There’s drains and those weird holes in the edges!”  
“You’re afraid you’re gonna get sucked in the drain or the filtration system?” she chortled, turning to float on her back.

“Or that something starts coming out from them. I’ve seen stranger things happen,” he grumbled.  
“Oh, Leon, you could’ve just told me you’re afraid of water,” she said and splashed some at him.

“I’m not afraid, I just don’t like water or the things that possibly lurk in water. And yeah, it may be just a pool, but you have no idea how many kids have pissed in it, so if that’s not a reason to be terrified of pools, I don’t know what is,” Leon shook his head.

He couldn’t think of anyone who didn’t have a mini-heart attack and freak out when swimming and feeling something unknown brush against their leg, and that alone was enough of a reason to be respectfully scared of unknown waters. The fact that he’d almost gotten eaten by mutated weird fish-shark-things (or almost drowned while avoiding being eaten) more than once did nothing to alleviate his discomfort around water.

“Okay then, but you’re missing out on fun,” she said, dove once more and swam underwater to the other end of the pool before resurfacing and turning to do a backstroke as she returned to where she started.  
“And I think you’re the one missing out on fun by wasting time in the pool when you could be relaxing in the sun and getting a little tan,” he smirked.

“I don’t tan, I burn,” Claire commented.  
“Maybe next time we take a vacation, we should consider a different kind of a destination then,” he chuckled.

“Well, excuse me for thinking that anyone could enjoy a holiday somewhere sunny with a big pool and a beach nearby, I didn’t know of your illogical phobia,” Claire scoffed.  
“Being cautious about unknown waters isn’t illogical, it makes perfect sense,” Leon scoffed back at her and she paused, treading water.

“It’s a pool, Leon, not the deepest part of an ocean!” she almost yelled in exasperation.  
“And I don’t want to get in it, end of discussion,” he responded and sighed, finished his drink and headed back to the bar to get another one. Once he’d disappeared from the view, Claire climbed out of the pool, dried off most of the water, and went to grab his phone. She scrolled through the contacts and dialed Olivia’s number.

“Agent Kennedy, you’re supp…” Olivia began to say but stopped herself when she realized who she was looking at on the screen. “You’re not Leon,” she chuckled.  
“No, I’m not, because I’m capable of enjoying a swimming pool,” Claire smirked, and Olivia frowned, but Claire moved on without bothering to explain.

“I need your mind.”  
“Finally, someone who loves me for my amazingly cluttered brain,” Olivia chuckled. “What do you need?”

“I need the name of the Stephen King-book where the kids go swimming and there’s some weird oily creature that eats them,” Claire explained.  
“It’s not a book,” Olivia shook her head and typed something.

“Well, either way, I remember there was a movie made of it…” Claire recalled, and Olivia shook her head again.  
“Nope, it was a segment in an anthology.”

“Okay, doesn’t matter, what matters is you know what I am talking about. Now, can you help me find a copy of it like… right now?”  
“It’s called _The Raft_ and you can find the clip on YouTube. And… I found a scanned copy of the story online, I’m sending you the link now,” Olivia said and clicked on something rather forcefully. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Nothing right now, thank you so much!”  
“You’re welcome, and later, I expect to hear the details of why you needed this,” she quirked an eyebrow and Claire chortled.

“When have I ever let you down, Liv?” she inquired and said good-bye before ending the call.  
“How’s that book?” she then asked Leon when he returned with a fresh drink and sat back in his chair.

“Boring,” he sighed.  
“Well, I’ve got something that might interest you,” she said and opened the link Olivia had sent her.

“What’s this?” Leon frowned and accepted the phone, glancing at the scanned pages on the screen.  
“A short story I thought you might enjoy,” Claire said innocently and got back into the pool.

“All-righty,” he mumbled and turned his attention to the story. After reading on for a few minutes, he realized he’d seen the film adaptation of it too. Sighing, he closed the page and put his phone down.

“Very funny,” he commented.  
“Liv said the movie-version is online too, I was thinking we could watch it together. I’ll let you hold my hand if you get scared,” she teased him.

“I’m regretting saying anything about this to you,” Leon grumbled, and Claire exhaled deeply.  
“I’m sorry, Leon. I’m just… a little annoyed with you right now, so…” Claire said.

“Why, what did I do?” he frowned.  
“Nothing, which is the problem. I didn’t arrange a babysitter for Seeley for two weeks and book us a vacation just so that you could get drunk in the hotel room while reading a book you don’t even like,” Claire snapped at him and grabbed her towel, heading back toward the hotel while wrapping it around herself.

“Claire..!”  
“Forget it, I’m going to the beach,” she said over her shoulder and continued walking away with long, agitated strides. Leon picked up his belongings and followed her.

“What the hell?” he asked after getting into the room behind her and closing the door.  
“I don’t want to nag at you, it’s not who I am, and I hate doing it, so let’s just… forget it,” she said as she tossed random items she’d need at the beach into a small bag.

“Listen, if I’m pissing you off without even realizing it, of course I’d want you to tell me about it, how do you expect me to fix it if I don’t even know what’s wrong?” Leon argued and tossed the book and his sunglasses onto the couch.  
“I refuse to believe that you’re so inconsiderate that you wouldn’t already realize what’s bothering me.”

“Well, maybe I am!”  
“Fine!” Claire yelled and zipped the bag up before turning to face him with her hands on her hips. “Do you even remember when you went a full week without getting drunk? Or even a day without having at least a couple of drinks?”

“It’s not like I’ve been keeping track.”  
“I tried to, but I lost track! And sure, okay, at first, I figured you were having a rough patch after Adam’s death and I was willing to put up with a little bender if it would help to fix you up, but this is too much. Then I thought that maybe you’ll clean up your act once I tell you I’m pregnant… and after that, I told myself that you’d do it after Seeley was born, but here we are!” Claire ranted and gestured toward him with her hand and he turned to see what she was pointing at. He was holding a tall glass of rum and coke in his hand.

“You never said anything, how was I supposed to know it bothered you?”  
“I shouldn’t have to say anything! But now I am. So… what are you going to do about it?”

Leon wiped the back of his hand over his lips and raised the glass to them, finishing his drink before putting the empty glass aside.

“Welp… now that I know you have a problem with how much I drink…”  
“Oh, no, the problem is yours, Leon,” she interjected, and he raised his hand in a calming gesture.

“…now that I know… I will try,” he finished what he’d meant to say. “I didn’t think it was a problem.”  
“Of course you didn’t, that’s the beauty of being drunk all the time, the red flags get really blurry and they just zip on by,” Claire said, her voice dripping with venom.

“Hey, I quit field duty to spend more time with you and Seeley, it’s not like I have never even made an effort!” Leon defended himself.  
“Oh, big deal, I quit it too and you don’t see me downing a six-pack every day! Besides, you were looking for a reason to retire anyway, don’t act like you’ve made some great sacrifice!”

“Okay, okay!” Leon yelled over her. “I’m sorry that somewhere along the line I became a horrible man who drinks too much.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re not a horrible man, you’re a good man, Leon. But you do drink too much. I just wish I knew how to make you feel better so that you wouldn’t feel like you need to get drunk all the time,” Claire muttered and shouldered her bag, still planning to head to the beach even though she didn’t think she’d enjoy it much right now.

“It’s not your job to magically make me feel better.”

“Then stop expecting me to have all the answers. No, I cannot wave a magic wand and erase everything that’s wrong, but I’ve tried, and you have no idea how bad it makes me feel to realize that despite my efforts and despite everything I tell you, it’s not enough. And if you can’t figure this shit out… I don’t think I can be with you.”

“Is that an—”  
“No,” Claire interrupted, “it’s not an ultimatum; it’s a simple fact. Do something… or at least show me a genuine effort, or I’m taking Seeley and leaving.”

“Claire, I’m not getting drunk to avoid you and Seeley,” Leon said and stepped in front of the door to stop her from just walking out.  
“I know you’re not, but it’s me and Seeley your drinking reflects upon. You’re not alone in any of this, I know what it’s like, I’ve been there, I’ve seen things, I’ve had to live with the fact that I basically left Moira to die when I escaped from that island… but I’ve bounced back. I need you to do the same.”

“And I want to! But I don’t have your spirit, I don’t have what it takes, I need… crutches.”  
“Those are excuses.”

“Claire,” he said seriously and put his hands onto her shoulders. “I never told you, but there was a time in my life when I thought about just giving up. I just… thought it would be easier if I’d just…” he trailed off and hung his head a little, shaking it and sighed deeply.

“What does it matter?” he scoffed and let go of her and slumped onto the couch.  
“What is it? Tell me,” she frowned.

“I wanted to kill myself,” he blurted out and Claire barely stifled a gasp.  
“Leon…”

“I thought… that I didn’t want to deal with any of this. That I didn’t have what it took. Like I said, I don’t have the spirit. Especially not now. I mean… I don’t want to die, I just… don’t want to do this anymore, I want a normal life… I want to do… dad-things, I want to embarrass my kid in front of his classmates, I want to play catch with him, I want to come home to a normal life, have dinner with my family and fall asleep watching TV.  I don’t want this fucking bullshit with zombies and evil corporations!” Leon ranted and ran a hand over his unshaven chin, hating to admit the fact that he really felt like crying right now.

“I’m just so… fucking… tired!” he said and covered his face with his hand, his shoulders twitching as he sobbed silently, but it only lasted for barely five seconds before he stopped himself and angrily wiped away the tears that had slid onto his cheeks. Boys don’t cry.

“And I know that this just sounds like another lame excuse, but it’s not and I’m not trying to get you to forgive me by telling you dark stuff, I’m just saying that… this is why,” he shook his head.

“You do realize it’s okay for you to feel the way you do and that it’s okay for you to cry?” Claire asked quietly and put her bag down before going to him and taking a seat next to him.  
“Pft, no it ain’t,” he tried joking, but she dismissed his humor.

“Well, you know, if Mother Nature didn’t want men to cry, she wouldn’t have given them the ability to cry, now would she?” Claire jested, and Leon scoffed a little and sniffled.  
“I suppose.”

“Listen…” Claire said softly and reached to put her arm around his midsection, pressing herself closer to him. “I know it’s not easy. I know this isn’t the life you wanted, I know things went to hell after Raccoon City… but we survived that. And look at where we are now.”

“Abu Dhabi?” he smirked, and she bumped his shoulder with her fist playfully.  
“Well, yes, but also… we’re alive. We’re doing good work and saving others. We have a son. We have friends and a home, we have so many good things going for us. And it just pains me to hear you’ve wanted to give up, I’d never want that.”

“It was a long time ago and I haven’t had those thoughts since… often at least, but… look, I just…” Leon trailed off, sighing deeply, realizing that he didn’t know how to finish his sentence.

“Don’t give up, Leon. There’s a lot of boring normal life to be lived,” she whispered and kissed his cheek softly.  
“I don’t intend to give up, you and Seeley mean the world to me,” he said, nuzzling into her neck. “And I’m not idiotic enough to tell you that I’m just gonna quit tomorrow and that’s it, I’m sure I’ll screw up within a week, but I’m… just… Claire…” he stammered then, unable to bring himself to say it, but fortunately, he didn’t have to.

“I’ll help you,” she said for him.  
“…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you’ll probably want to murder me once you see what I intend to do with your stash of scotch and beer,” Claire smirked.

“Maybe let me finish my stash or share it with friends so I won’t feel so bad… I mean, I’ve already paid for it all, so…” Leon grinned.  
“I’ll tell you what, once we get home, you can have one more night of drunken fun and after that, I will start nagging you about it and pour everything down the sink. I’m sure this is a terrible idea if we were to ask a professional, but we’re not asking, are we?”

“No, we’re not. Besides, I never listen anyways,” Leon chuckled mischievously, and Claire chuckled quietly.  
“That all said… and I mean what I’m about to say…” she then spoke and stared at him seriously. “The next time you show up home late and drunk… or dismiss me and our son because you prefer being wasted…”

“When has that ever happened?” Leon interrupted.

“It hasn’t yet, but it might and it would hurt Seeley’s feelings too once he’s old enough to realize daddy rather got wasted than attended his school play…” Claire trailed off, narrowing her eyes at him, and it wasn’t until now that he’d even thought about it, and even thinking about it made him feel bad; it didn’t matter that it hadn’t happened and hopefully never would.

“I will do better,” he said hoarsely.  
“I hope so… and I hope you’ll know that I will be here and support you in every way that I can, I will help you. I will wait for you to get better, and I will stay with you for as long as I know that you’re trying.”

“I don’t want to let you down. I mean… I’m sure I’ll screw up, but just tell me when it’s too much and I’ll work on it harder. I really don’t want to lose you.”  
“And you’re not going to… as long as you try. And if you trying and me doing what I can isn’t enough, then… maybe we weren’t meant to be,” she muttered and Leon put his arm around her midsection and held onto her tightly.

“We _were_ meant to be, shut up,” he smiled ruefully and she chuckled softly.  
“I love you, Leon. You’re a good man with a good heart, and you’re a good father. Now I just need you to be good to yourself too.”

“I love you too, Claire,” he whispered and leaned to kiss her softly. “And I’ll fix this. I promise.”  
“I believe you,” she nodded. “Now… I do think I was headed to the beach. Wanna join me?” she then smiled.

“I definitely do, but only if I get to be in charge of staying on the beach and guarding our spot while you go out there and risk getting tangled in seaweeds,” he chuckled.  
“It’s a deal.”

***


	21. 3 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "drabble based on which of the OTP could nap for 7 days straight"

“Are you sure you wouldn’t have rather slept at home for free?” Leon inquired as he exited the movie theater with Claire, who was still yawning.  
“I’m sorry, I know this is our date night, and I was being rude, but I’ve been up late all week with work, and I’m exhausted. I’m sorry, Leon,” she apologized.

“Ah, yes, your new boyfriend keeping you up all night…” he trailed off and she rolled her eyes at him.  
“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my boss, and we’re not having this conversation again,” she told him.

“Why haven’t they invented a pill that would erase a human’s need for sleep? I mean, for God’s sake, evidently reanimating the dead isn’t much of a challenge, why isn’t this on anyone’s to-do-list?” Leon wondered out loud and she chuckled.  
“I don’t know… I mean, sure I would get a lot more done if I didn’t need to sleep, but I don’t think there’s anything in the world I enjoy more than sleep,” Claire pursed her lips as she thought about it and Leon turned to look at her with his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that so?”

“…I can not think of a way to save this, so I’ll just admit my defeat and apologize, because I didn’t mean it like _that_ , there are other things I enjoy doing in bed other than just sleep. But only when you’re there, when you’re not, then it’s sleep,” Claire babbled, and he laughed quietly.

“You’re talking about binge-watching _The Golden Girls_ and eating ice cream, aren’t you?” he grinned, and she nodded eagerly.  
“Of course I am, what else is there?” she played along and put her arm around his waist as they walked side-by-side to the car.

“What do you say we just spend the rest of the evening in bed and snuggle?” Claire suggested shortly after they’d gotten home.  
“That sounds like it would be fun,” Leon smiled as he kicked off his shoes and shrugged his jacket off.

“Great! I’ll go warm the bed while you go make us a couple of ice cream sundaes,” Claire said and hurried over to the bedroom before he’d have a chance to object.

“Women,” he chuckled softly to himself and went into the kitchen. He grabbed the ice cream and scooped it into bowls, topping Claire’s portion off with whipped cream, sprinkles and strawberries, while settling for a simple chocolate sauce himself.

“All right, here we go, and…” he began when he entered the bedroom. “…and, you’re asleep. I’m not even surprised,” he added in a mutter. Claire lay on her back with her forearm over her eyes, her chest rising and falling softly in the rhythm of her deep breaths.

Leon put the ice cream sundaes onto the nightstand and went to sit on his side of the bed, switching the TV on and flipping through channels until he stumbled upon a marathon of _The X-files._ He put the remote away, grabbed the ice cream and dug in, deciding not to let it go to waste.

_Claire’s gonna be jealous she missed out on this,_ he grinned to himself.

* * *

“Damn, that was good nap, what did I miss?” Claire yawned and turned to lay on her back, blinking repeatedly when she realized she was staring at Leon’s feet.  
“Saturday,” he smirked over his shoulder. He was lying on his stomach on the bed, watching TV, a pillow tucked underneath his chin for support.

“…yep, definitely a good nap,” Claire said and moved, settling to lay ontop of him.  
“Did you sleep okay?” she asked and ran her finger along his cheek.

“Well, I did have to eat your ice cream sundae as well as my own, so I did feel a little sick for a while there,” he said.  
“How about a backrub?”

“Sounds great.”  
“Good!” Claire said happily, climbed off of Leon and lay down on her stomach on the bed. “Chop-chop, my shoulders need some attention,” she then said, and Leon scoffed.

“How did I not see this coming?” he chuckled, sat on his shins and leaned to knead the muscles between her shoulder blades.  
“If you fall asleep again, you owe me dinner,” he the whispered.

“How would feel about staying in bed and snuggling the entire day? Maybe order a pizza, have a couple of sweet drinks? I think we have the ingredients for mimosas.”  
“And that’s how you get out of making dinner, huh?” he chuckled quietly, running his thumbs along the sides of her shoulder blades.

“Oh, what luck that would be,” she said, her smile audible in her voice. After a few minutes, she finally began to turn around and he moved off of her.  
“So, what do you say?”

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Leon grinned and leaned to kiss her lips softly.  
“I thought so too. Now, I am going to get the champagne and the orange juice, you bring the phone close so we’ll be ready to order a pizza later when we get hungry,” Claire said and got out of bed.

“Bring the rest of the ice cream too while you’re at it,” he called out after her and she waved her hand a little to confirm she’d heard his request.

* * *

Leon put his arm around Claire’s shoulders and pulled her close as he lay half upright against the pillows he’d piled up behind his back for support. She put her arm around his midsection and kissed his cheek before nuzzling into the side of his neck. He yawned deeply and shook his head a little. It was barely noon, he didn't think he should feel tired despite having gone to sleep only at around three in the morning last night.

“Why am I so tired?” he wondered out loud.  
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Claire jested, and he snorted.

“If you get me pregnant, I’m gonna be so mad at you,” he played along.  
“We’d have such beautiful children though,” Claire mused.

“Yeah, they’d have your eyes and nose… and my hair…” he listed, caressing Claire’s shoulder with his fingertips.  
“Want to take a nap and risk getting impregnated by me after?” she then joked, and Leon laughed.

“I am certain I would enjoy that very much.”  
“Me too, especially the nap-part,” Claire teased.

“I don’t think I like you anymore,” Leon pouted.  
“Yes, you do, because you know that ours is a relationship everyone envies, especially because of our terrible banter,” Claire said confidently and moved to pepper the side of his neck with small kisses.

“It’s true, I dread the day you stop teasing me and start doing it to other men,” he grinned, and she bit his neck softly for that.  
“You know I love you,” she whispered into his ear a little bit more serious now.

“I know, and I love you too,” he replied, put his arm around her midsection and gently tugged on her, and she moved to straddle his lap.

He smiled, resting his hands on her hips for a while before letting them slide down over the sides of her thighs, and she slipped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He happily gave in to the movement, closed his eyes and pressed the side of his face against her chest as he wrapped his arms around her and held onto her tightly. He smiled when she ran her fingers through his hair and nuzzled the top of his head; he always felt most loved and happiest when she held him like this.

He could easily think of a hundred reasons why he should’ve wished the Raccoon City incident had never happened, but he didn’t because despite the hell it and the aftermath had been, he’d walked away from it all with something that had made it all worth it.

***

created by [Oceanmyhope](https://oceanmyhope.tumblr.com/)


	22. When I see you dance with another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to a prompt I got after I put out a request for any prompt, and I was asked if it were possible to get "a Cleon oneshot out of a song called 'When I see you dance with another'". :)  
> This chapter features NSFW-art created by Biohazard4ever (https://biohazard4ever.tumblr.com/)

Leon had what Claire playfully called “Bambi-legs”, meaning that whenever he tried to dance with the grace and smoothness he managed everything else, he turned into Bambi on ice. He’d never told Claire how much he hated just watching from the sidelines. Seeing her dance with others -even if he knew there was nothing more to it, it was really just dancing- made him feel rather lousy.

Dancing was something he wouldn’t be able to give her despite his best efforts. She’d told him he should just let it all flow through him, relax, move and melt into the song, but he couldn’t. He didn’t feel the flow Claire adamantly insisted was there. He couldn’t force his limbs to relax.

But Claire… she moved like she was liquid, her body swaying to the beat of the song, the multi-colored lights of the dance floor washing over her and a dozen others, weaving them all into a single moving mass of flesh, and when he looked over, all he saw was her. She was free, tossing her hair and letting her arms rise high toward the ceiling, moving them along the song, but unlike anyone else with their arms flailing about, she didn’t look ridiculous; she flowed effortlessly with the rhythm of the music.

She looked over and locked eyes with him across the room. She smiled. Leon finished his drink and got up. He didn’t care that he didn’t know what to do, he needed to be there with her, even if all he could do would be to stumble and fall or stand still.

Leon put his hands onto her hips and she turned around, instinctively pressing her body to his, her hips digging into his. She slipped her fingers into his hair, balling her hand into a fist, tugging on the blond strands with gentle firmness, pulling him closer. She kissed him in a way that made him forget how to breathe.

Her hands traveled over his ribs, down to his buttocks, her grip sending bolts of red lightning across his body, tingling his spine and nesting in his chest. The warmth of her hands soaked into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. He slipped his hand down to the back of her knee and tugged on her. She smoothed into the movement, pushed herself up against him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she said into his ear over the loud and overwhelming music. She didn’t feel like dancing anymore; the warm ache pooling in the pit of her stomach and dripping through her made her want something different.

He hesitated. He wasn’t sure if she was asking because she wanted to leave or because she knew he didn’t want to be here. She kissed him hard, tugged on his hair, her fingernails scratching the back of his neck as she nipped his lower lip.

“Let’s go,” he breathed hoarsely into the kiss.

* * *

Leon almost tripped over his feet when he and Claire entered the apartment, both busy unbuttoning various items of clothing and tugging on them to get rid of them, not caring about where they ended up landing or how many buttons were lost in the process; all of it still as passionate and exciting as it had been when they’d been in their twenties, bodies humming with adrenaline and the rush of having survived Raccoon City.

Back then, Leon had barely been able to believe she’d wanted to invite him so close, and even to this day, it still felt like an honor. Her desire to share herself with him made him feel like he was the most important guy in the world. She trusted him with herself and was safe knowing he would never do anything to violate that trust.

He lay on his side next to her, his hand traveling a familiar pattern down along her body before finally settling between her legs, the welcoming wetness that greeted him causing another surge of arousal lance through him when he took a moment to consider he was the cause and the object of her desire. She put her hand on the back of his head and pressed her lips onto his, pulling him closer and he eased into the movement as Claire parted her legs further.

_art by[Biohazard4ever](https://biohazard4ever.tumblr.com/)_

 

She arched her back and exhaled deeply when he settled between her legs. That first push which was always accompanied by the gently burning feeling of being stretched was one of her favorite parts in the entire act. She knew to expect his girth, and still, somehow, the feeling of him filling her always pleasantly surprised her. It made no sense and she knew it, but it didn’t matter.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place. He wouldn’t have moved even if she’d left him the option to do so; he closed his eyes and leaned to bury his face into the side of her neck, moaning quietly at the sensation of her inner muscles constricting around his length in an erratic pattern she wasn’t in charge of anymore.

Finally, she loosened her hold of him and encouraged him to move, raking her fingernails down his back, bringing her hands to grip his buttocks demandingly. He gave in, eagerly, this time not even trying to hold back the loud groan of pleasure that tickled its way up his throat.

She cupped his face with her palm and he turned his head to be able to see her. She loved that look on his face, the rapture easily visible on his handsome features, the soft look in his eyes exposing the kind of an intimate vulnerability he showed only for her.

She slowly shifted on the bed and Leon paused for a moment, waiting for her to turn to lay on her stomach. Once she did, he gripped her hips and pulled on her gently, raising her hips off the mattress. He guided himself in and leaned over her, resting his weight on one arm as the other wrapped over Claire’s chest. She bent her back and tilted her head far back as he inclined further forward, reaching to press his lips onto hers, the upside-down kiss not a completely new experience, but still exquisitely stimulating in its unfamiliarity.

_art by[Biohazard4ever](https://biohazard4ever.tumblr.com/)_

 

She broke the kiss, braced herself on her forearms, her elbows and knees digging into the mattress as she raised her hips once more, pressing tightly against him, an involuntary whimper emanating from her when she felt his manhood press against the sensitive spot within her. It didn’t take long for the sensation to become overwhelming, and he moved just before the sweet pressure began bordering on pain.

She slipped her arm underneath her body, her fingers finding their way to between her legs and over her clit. Usually, she didn’t shy away from guiding his fingers to do the work for her, but she wanted him to have his hands free and focus on what he was doing. It didn’t take long for her to reach the point of no return, her breath hitched, and her heart began jackhammering against her ribcage as she neared the edge.

She moaned his name, repeatedly, unable to think of anything else to say in that moment, but needing almost desperately to speak. He smiled, keeping his pace steady, holding himself back despite his need to let go slowly beginning to be beyond his control.

“Leon!” she gasped, her body trembling underneath his as she came, the clenching of her inner muscles around his length the last straw which broke his self-control. He collapsed over her, breathing heavily as he tensed up and went still for half a second before his release.

Feeling all kinds of satisfied, he slowly moved to lay on his side on the bed and pulled Claire closer, spooning her, knowing they probably should’ve taken a quick shower before falling asleep, but not wanting to move. She felt the same way and interlaced her fingers with his as she pulled his arm around herself.

She yawned and closed her eyes, the warmth radiating from his body and his closeness making her sleepy, and the comfortable feeling of safety she felt only when in his arms quickly helping to drift her off to sleep.

He nuzzled into her hair and sighed happily. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he realized that it didn’t really matter if she danced with others on the dance floor as long as this, the last dance of the evening, would always be reserved for him.

***


	23. Metafiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention. (Hunniper)"

Sunday, January 3rd, 2044.

Helena woke to the familiar sound of typing. Once upon a time it had taken her weeks to get used to it, but nowadays she found herself needing the quiet sounds to be able to fall asleep in the first place. She’d lost quite a bit of sleep every time Hunnigan had gotten a new laptop and the sound of the keyboard had been all wrong compared to what she’d gotten used to.

She turned to her other side and reached to press her face against the side of Hunnigan’s thigh.

“Good morning,” Hunnigan smiled, glanced over to her and sunk her fingers into Helena’s hair, scratching her scalp in a few tiny movements for a moment before returning to her typing.  
“Have you even gone to sleep at all? I swear, this is exactly how I left you last night,” Helena said.

“I did sleep,” Hunnigan said absently.  
“Where’s my morning coffee?” Helena then teased.

“Probably waiting for you to brew it.”  
“Is it just my imagination or have you gotten sassier since you retired?” Helena quirked an eyebrow and sat up, moving her pillows behind her back to be able to lean into them.

“It only seems like that to you because I spend most of my free time thinking up cheeky comebacks and having imaginary conversations in my head, so I’m always prepared,” Hunnigan smirked and Helena rolled her eyes.  
“Hey,” she then said and poked Hunnigan’s arm with her index finger.

“Yes?” Hunnigan said, not even looking up from her laptop. Helena didn’t answer; instead, she poked a trail up to Hunnigan’s shoulder and then back down her arm all the way to the elbow.  
“That is really annoying.”

“I’m not gonna stop poking you until you give me some attention.”  
“So, you’re just gonna keep annoying me until I give in? I bet coercing people like that is illegal.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve thought about how annoying I can be before you agreed to have yourself legally bound to me,” Helena grinned confidently and leaned to kiss Hunnigan’s cheek.  
“Oh, believe me, I did think about it. A lot.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that idea after you turned me down the third time.”  
“What can I say, I was raised to believe women should act hard to get.”

“I still think it was excessive.”  
“What difference does it make, we’re here now, bickering like the old couple that we are,” Hunnigan shrugged.

“True, and I love it and I love that we’re an old couple.”  
“I’m not really a fan of being old, but whatever floats your boat,” Hunnigan chuckled.

“You’re not old,” Helena sighed.  
“The fact that my everything hurts on a regular basis begs to differ,” Hunnigan smirked.

Frankly, aging hadn’t bothered Hunnigan until recently when she’d been practically forced to retire from her position as the head of FOS. And even then, it wasn’t so much her age which bothered her, but it was the boredom that came with it. She’d been working since her teenage years, and it had been weeks after retirement that she’d finally stopped accidentally putting on her suit and getting ready to go to work every morning.

Now that she had all the time in the world, she didn’t know what to do with it. She’d never had plans for the retirement years like some did; she didn’t want to sail around the world or start gardening. She had volunteered at various places for a while, but her heart hadn’t been in it; as much as she liked the idea of teaching basic computer skills to those who lacked them, in reality it had just been frustrating.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t sit up all night typing… whatever it is that you’re typing… that wouldn’t be such a problem,” Helena remarked and reached to give the back of Hunnigan’s neck a squeeze.  
“Oh, that feels good,” Hunnigan groaned when Helena dug her thumbs deeper into the tense muscles.

“I’ll continue if you tell me what you’re writing that’s so important that you couldn’t tear yourself away from it long enough to bring me coffee in bed.”  
“I figured that since I have the time now, I might try my hand at writing a book. I was pretty good at writing when I was in school,” Hunnigan said.

“Really? What’s the book about?” Helena asked and moved a little on the bed so that she could see over Hunnigan’s shoulder.  
“About a CIA officer who gets framed for treason when the national security advisor has the President assassinated and blames the attack on her.”

“Hm, that sounds _veeerrry_ familiar,” Helena drawled with a grin.  
“This story is a work of fiction and any similarities to real life events and people are purely coincidental,” Hunnigan stated the standard disclaimer and Helena burst out laughing.

“Can I read it?”  
“I’ll think about it,” Hunnigan said and Helena leaned to plant soft kisses onto the side of Hunnigan’s neck.

“Well, I really just want to read the smutty scenes,” Helena muttered against her skin.  
“There aren’t any,” Hunnigan scoffed and Helena inhaled in exaggerated shock.

“Why not?”  
“I’ve only got about a hundred pages, it’s a little early for that. It took us longer than a hundred pages to get there,” Hunnigan grinned a little.

“You’re gonna make people read over a hundred pages before getting to the good stuff? Unbelievable.”  
“For your information, some people enjoy reading plot rather than lengthy descriptions of the mechanics of sex. And, some people also enjoy reading books that have more pages and story than the children’s books you read,” Hunnigan pointed out.

“Excuse you, _Donald Duck_ is not exclusively for children and the pocket books have way over hundred pages, easily.”  
“Be that as it may, no smut in my book.”

“I’m beginning to see what makes it fictional,” Helena whispered and moved to wrap her arms around Hunnigan’s midsection before resting her chin on her shoulder.  
“I gotta leave something to the readers’ imagination,” Hunnigan nodded and tilted her head to the side when Helena began to trail her lips over the side of her neck.

“Mm-hm, well, it’s better that way, I can’t have you spilling my secret moves to everyone…”  
“I’d need to write a separate book just for those alone,” Hunnigan laughed quietly, closed the laptop and reached to put it onto the nightstand.

“Wanna get started on the first draft?” Helena smiled and moved to straddle Hunnigan’s lap. She put her arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer.  
“Chapter one, hundred pages of foreplay.”

***


	24. September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to “We finish it the same way we started—together.” (Cleon)  
> I know that in the epilogue files in RE3 it says that Claire ran off pretty much immediately after she, Leon and Sherry had made it out of Raccoon city, so I took a bit of artistic liberty here and gave them about a day before that happened and the government people came over to capture Leon and Sherry.

September 1998.

“Leon, we’re gonna need to find some place to crash for a while,” Claire said quietly. She was carrying Sherry on her piggyback and the girl had begun to nod off, and quite frankly, Claire could’ve used a break herself. Leon probably needed the rest even more than she did, but she knew he wouldn’t admit it. She had to admire his stoicism, no matter how foolish it was to push on despite the bullet wound and blood loss.

“Yeah… you’re right,” Leon nodded. He squinted a little in the early morning light as he investigated the horizon to see if there was any place that would be suitable.  
“There,” he said and pointed toward a small cabin near the edge of the woods.

“Seriously, Leon, after we’ve barely made it out of one horror movie cliché, you want us to spend a night at a cabin in the woods?” Claire scoffed.

“It’s not _in_ the woods, and we’ve already survived one cliché, what are the odds this could go wrong?” Leon smirked a little. Claire had to admit he had a point, and even if he hadn’t, she was too tired to argue over it. On closer inspection, Claire noticed the cabin seemed to be a relatively safe spot to take a little break.

There weren’t many windows and the few were small and rather high up, so even if a random pack of the walking dead happened to wander by, they probably wouldn’t be able to break through there. Barricading the door shouldn’t be too difficult either, provided they could get in in the first place.

Leon drew his handgun and pushed the door open, entering carefully in case there were unpleasant surprised waiting for them.

“Clear,” he called out after checking the rooms, and Claire followed him inside. The owners of the cabin had obviously left in a hurry, but there were no signs of struggle and everything was more or less tidy and intact.  
“Sherry? How would you feel about taking a nap in a proper bed?” Claire asked the girl and let her down off her back.

“I’m not tired,” the girl argued while still rubbing her eyes.  
“I’m sure you’re not, sweetie, but I am pretty tired, and I really need that nap,” Claire said, and that seemed to be enough to convince Sherry.

“Will you stay with me?” Sherry asked once they were in the small bedroom and she was tucked in. Claire moved the bookshelf to cover the window just in case and smiled.  
“Of course I will,” she promised. She nodded off for a while herself and woke up when Leon came into the room and quietly said her name.

“I moved some stuff around, the cabin should be safe,” he said.

“I could’ve done that, you shouldn’t risk damaging your shoulder any further,” Claire scolded him and got up from the bed. She headed into the bathroom to look for a medicine cabinet and found something even better; there was a bottle of ibuprofen and a first aid kit.

“I’m fine, really,” Leon tried assuring her, but she wasn’t hearing any of it. There was no way he was fine, even if the bullet had gone through and through without breaking any bones, it had to be agony.  
“Sit down,” she ordered, and he dutifully did as he was told. She began to carefully undo the bandage Ada had tied over the wound. She then proceeded to undo the top of his uniform and pulled it off him.

“I really think your arm should be immobilized, there’s no telling how much damage you’ve already done,” Claire sighed quietly.  
“I guess. I don’t know, it doesn’t hurt as much as I’d expect.”

“You’re probably still high on adrenaline,” Claire commented.  
“And you aren’t?” he smirked a little.

“Maybe I am, but I’m not injured and risking further injury just because I’m under the false impression of being invincible,” she said. “I checked and there’s water, you should take a shower, rinse that wound properly.”

Reluctantly, he agreed to take a quick shower and once he emerged from the bathroom, Claire went to wash her hands and grabbed the bandages, beginning to bandage up the wound once again with new gauze. Thankfully, the wound had stopped bleeding and the exit wound on the front side was surprisingly neat.

 _I can’t believe that bitch just left him bleeding in the damn sewers just seconds after he took a bullet for her,_ Claire thought agitatedly as she finished patching him up.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Claire asked when Leon made a noise.  
“No, no, it’s fine,” he said.

“Okay then,” she said and took a seat next to him on the couch. “What do you think will happen now?” she then wondered out loud.  
“I don’t know, but if I had to guess, you’re probably right about the military rolling in at some point.”

“Yeah, the question is do we want to be here when they come?” Claire muttered.  
“…speak of the devil,” Leon whispered when he could hear helicopters approaching. Claire got up and went to wake Sherry while Leon pulled on his shirt and grabbed his gear.

“What’s going on?” Sherry yawned.  
“Everything’s okay,” Leon said with a smile as he knelt by Sherry and put his hand onto her shoulder. “We’re gonna be okay,” he said again and turned to look at Claire.

“Go.”  
“What?” Claire scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re looking for your brother, right? If you want to keep looking, you’re gonna need to get out of here before those guys get here,” he said nodding toward the sound of the helicopters.  
“But, Leon, I…”

“Just go!”

Claire glanced at Sherry who was putting on a brave face, her mouth twitching as she battled to keep her lower lip from trembling and swallowed back tears. Sherry would’ve wanted to cling to Claire and tell her to not go, but she was mature enough to know it wouldn’t make a difference. Claire had to admit that as much as she admired Sherry’s bravery, she felt terrible knowing that someone so young had needed to grow up so fast.

“I… I’ll be back. I promise!” Claire said as she disappeared into the wilderness alone.

* * *

September 2018.

Claire stood behind Leon and put her arms around him, nuzzling into his left shoulder, planting a series of small kisses onto the scar tissue on his skin. Leon spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth.

“Good morning,” he then said, turning to look at Claire.  
“Good morning,” she replied and tightened her grip on him, pressing the side of her face against his upper back.

“Is there a reason you’re hug attacking me first thing in the morning?”  
“Other than I just felt like hug attacking you? Nope,” Claire said and he laughed softly, put his arm over hers and stayed there for a  while.

 “I can’t believe it’s been twenty years,” Leon then mumbled and turned around in her arms.  
“I refuse to admit having aged that much,” Claire said and closed her eyes when he leaned to kiss her forehead.

“And yet, some things haven’t changed,” he muttered, and she sighed.  
“Like Umbrella still being around in some shape or form,” Claire said as she pulled back from him when he turned and reached to grab the shaving cream.

“Yeah. It’s depressing to realize that despite everything we’ve done… despite everything several agencies have done… it’s still the same shit,” Leon said, patted the cream onto his face and took the razor.

“I know it seems like a hopeless battle, but we’re making a difference. And eventually, we’ll finish it the same way we started—together,” Claire whispered and kissed the scar on his shoulder once more before grabbing her toothbrush. She put the paste on and headed into the kitchen while brushing her teeth.

Leon chuckled silently as she went. He’d never understood her habit of brushing her teeth while walking around doing things. Nowadays he was sure she wouldn’t even know how to brush her teeth in the morning without loading the coffee maker while doing it.

Not long after, she returned to the bathroom to rinse her mouth and playfully tell him “he’d missed a spot” even when he hadn’t.

“Look, I’m sorry that I come across as such a downer, it just… frustrates me when I realize how long we’ve been at this and how little things seem to have changed,” he apologized.  
“Don’t worry about it, I get it. But, I need you to get that things _have_ changed. For the better. You do see that, don’t you?” Claire asked and put her hand over his forearm.

“I do whenever you remind me of it,” he smiled, put his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug.  
“I’ll make a note to myself to remind you every morning,” she promised and kissed his lips softly before turning to head back into the kitchen for her coffee and he followed her example.

“You know…” Claire began as she poured him a cup and added a splash of milk into it before handing it over.  
“Thanks, love,” he whispered, kissed her temple and moved to take a seat with his coffee.

“…sometimes all it takes to make me happy is a moment of calm and a good cup of coffee,” Claire finished her sentence, inhaled the steam rising from her mug and took a long sip.

“It’s the normal little things people take for granted which make me happy, the moments I’m not trying to chase someone or something down… when I’m not running from something… when I have a chance to forget all the shitty things in the world for a while and just have breakfast with the man I love. Why wouldn’t I be happy?” Claire shrugged a little and he gave her a brilliant smile. He’d never really thought about it that way.

“You have no idea how happy I am I met you.”

***


	25. My Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the response to “Let’s move in together.” (Hunniper)

Sunlight filled the bedroom with a gentle rose gold glow and Helena smiled as she slowly began to wake up. She moved closer to Hunnigan and pressed herself against her back, tucking her legs behind Hunnigan’s and nuzzled into the back of her neck.

“Your bed is my favorite place in the world,” Helena murmured quietly and leaned to nibble Hunnigan’s earlobe softly.  
“Mine too,” Hunnigan said sleepily. Helena tugged on her gently and she turned to face her.

“Mm, don’t, I have morning breath,” Hunnigan muttered and turned her head when Helena tried to kiss her.  
“You’re ridiculous,” Helena chuckled, gently gripped Hunnigan’s chin and kissed her. She rested her palm over Hunnigan’s cheek, cupping her face and deepened the kiss slowly. She slipped her leg over Hunnigan’s hip and nudged herself closer.

“Quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind tasting your morning breath every day,” she grinned after breaking the kiss, resting her forehead against Hunnigan’s.  
“You like weird things,” Hunnigan smiled a little.

“I like you, does that make you weird?” Helena quipped.  
“Probably,” Hunnigan admitted and turned to lay on her back, covering her eyes with her forearm to hide from the sunlight.

“Okay, but what I meant was… let’s move in together.”  
“You just want to use my bed,” Hunnigan smiled.

“Well, can you blame me, it’s super comfortable.”  
“It should be, it cost a fortune,” Hunnigan said and sat up. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she then said and exited the bedroom. Helena exhaled deeply and slumped back in the bed, completely aware of Hunnigan having completely ignored her suggestion.

* * *

Hunnigan loved Helena, she truly did, but the mere thought of having her around all the time was, quite frankly, terrifying. She didn’t mind when Helena spent the night or stayed over for a few days in a row, but she didn’t think she could handle having Helena there every single day. She was used to being alone and at this time she wasn’t sure if she had it in herself to share a home with another person, even if that person was someone she really loved.

She couldn’t stand it when Helena did something as minor as leave her coffee mug into the sink rather than put it into the dish washer; the mere idea of Helena being here to constantly leave her things lying around or misplacing Hunnigan’s belongings made Hunnigan cringe.

Sighing, she exited the shower and pulled her bathrobe on, still trying to think of some way to let Helena down gently. She had noticed the younger woman dropping hints about possibly moving in. She’d casually suggested leaving a few items of clothing and maybe her toothbrush so that she wouldn’t have to hurry home in the morning or bring an overnight bag every time she stayed over. She’d also made a comment or two about how it would make sense if she had a key to the house so that Hunnigan wouldn’t have to always be “on call” to come answer the door whenever Helena headed out for a smoke or to the corner store for something. Hunnigan had managed to brush off the suggestions merely by behaving like she hadn’t understood the hints Helena had been dropping, but that was hardly an option now.

“What are you doing?” Hunnigan frowned when she went to the bedroom to get dressed and discovered Helena sitting on the edge of the bed, tying the laces of her boots.  
“Balancing my checkbook,” Helena scoffed, “what does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting out of your hair.”

“I thought you were staying for breakfast?”  
“Yeah, well, you know, figured you might prefer being by yourself,” Helena shrugged in fake-nonchalance which did nothing to hide her hurt.

“Helena, that’s not…”  
“Don’t worry about it, I think you’ve made your point very clear,” Helena interrupted, got up and grabbed her backpack -the one she had to bring if she intended to spend the night because God forbid she leave her clothes at Hunnigan’s.

“For the love of… I don’t want you to go,” Hunnigan sighed.  
“You don’t really want me to stay either,” Helena said and shouldered her bag.

“I haven’t said that, I just need my space now and then which is why…” Hunnigan began to explain, realizing just how much it sounded like a pathetic excuse despite being the truth.

“Excuse me for wanting a relationship that is actually going somewhere. I would understand your hesitation and unwillingness to even discuss this if we’d known each other for like… barely a month, but we’ve been together for almost two years, Hunnigan. So… yeah, I don’t think I’m being unreasonable,” Helena scoffed and pushed past Hunnigan, exiting the bedroom.

“I never said I thought you were being unreasonable,” Hunnigan said as she followed the other woman.  
“Yeah, no, you didn’t, you don’t need to say anything, but the message is pretty god damn clear. I’m going home. Enjoy your solitude.”

“He—” Hunnigan began to say, but Helena was already out the door.

* * *

“Okay, but seriously, can you understand why I said no?” Hunnigan asked and Leon shook his head, raising his hand in the air and held up a finger to silently ask her to hold that thought until he’d finished swallowing his coffee.  
“Frankly, my dear, that is a subject I do not want to touch,” he finally said and Hunnigan exhaled deeply.

“I don’t want you to touch it, I want you to agree with me.”  
“Yeaaahhh… but I kiiind of… don’t. I mean, what would be the worst thing to come out of it? You’d have someone who’d help out with the chores and mortgage.”

“I don’t have a mortgage, I paid the house in full when I bought it,” Hunnigan interjected and Leon rolled his eyes.  
“You know what I mean! She wants to share her everyday life with you and you’re behaving like that’s the worst possible thing. You can’t possibly enjoy being alone that much.”

“I enjoy not having to find seven different coffee mugs half full of coffee that Helena left lying around. I enjoy not having to rearrange my entire kitchen every day because she can’t be bothered to put things back where they belong. I enjoy not needing to change the light bulb every five minutes because she forgot to turn the lights off before heading out for the day. I enjoy not finding my toothbrush wet in the morning after she’s decided to borrow it!” Hunnigan ranted and Leon made a face at the latter statement.

“Let me guess, you’re an only child?” he then smirked. “Either that or you were never taught to share.”  
“I know how to share, but I need my boundaries respected. Having someone burst into the bathroom to conduct their business while I’m taking a shower or brushing my teeth is the opposite of respecting boundaries, wouldn’t you say?”

“Why don’t you just lock the bathroom door?” Leon frowned.

“I shouldn’t need to because it should be obvious to anyone that you _don’t just burst in when you know someone else is already in there!”_ Hunnigan explained in exasperation. How was this simple concept so difficult to grasp? She refused to believe she was in the minority with this.

“Look, it’s not like I don’t get where you’re coming from, but at the same time, there are worse things than having to share a bathroom now and then,” Leon shrugged one shoulder.  
“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Hunnigan challenged and Leon chuckled quietly.

“Well, to me personally, coming home to an empty house every night would be way worse. Going to bed alone would be worse. I can keep listing things, but honestly, I don’t think there’s anything I can say that would convince you, because these are things I enjoy. You, apparently, enjoy the opposite and would rather fall asleep alone than with her breath on the back your neck,” Leon smirked, finished his coffee and got up to leave the room; he had made his point.

* * *

Hunnigan was on her bed, the computer resting on a wooden cutting board she used as a stand for it. She leaned her elbows to her thighs as she typed until the nagging ache on the muscle over her shoulder blade forced her to stop. She’d once again ended up slumping over her laptop rather than sitting up straight.

“Oh, wow, that didn’t sound good,” she commented to herself when she heard the various pops and cracks emanating from her body as she straightened her back and rolled her shoulders a little.

Hunnigan turned to look at her phone and sucked on her lower lip as she contemplated on picking it up and calling Helena. They hadn’t spoken since Helena had stormed out over two weeks ago. The fact that Hunnigan had transferred Helena to another FOS agent to avoid possible conflicts of interest when their relationship had gotten serious had made it possible for Helena to avoid her even at work.

“Hey, it’s me. Where are you?” Hunnigan said after Helena finally answered her call.  
“Just hanging out with Sherry; she’s shorter than you, she doesn’t need so much _space_ ,” Helena said, her voice dripping with venom.

“Okay, I deserved that,” Hunnigan exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen… we need to talk.”  
“I know we do, but I’m not sure I want to have that conversation, because I know where it’ll lead.”

“So, you’d rather keep avoiding me and hope the problem goes away?”  
“No… I don’t know. Okay, look, if you’re gonna dump me, then… just get it over with,” Helena sighed and Hunnigan frowned.

“I hadn’t even thought of doing that.”  
“Yeah? Well, it’s kind of hard to tell.”

“What the hell, Helena? You’re the one who stormed out and hasn’t even spoken to me since!” Hunnigan snapped.  
“What stopped you from calling me?” Helena argued. “I was waiting for you to make the first move for once, but of course, you didn’t, because you were probably too busy enjoying your solitude and not having to waste your time on me.”

“Oh, my God! I didn’t call you because I thought you didn’t want to talk to me!” Hunnigan yelled, then sucked in a deep breath through her teeth. “All right, all right, no, this… is a pointless discussion over something that was obviously a misunderstanding… right?” she then tried to calm the situation.

“I suppose,” Helena sighed.  
“The reason I called is that I miss you, and I wanted to ask if you’d want to come over.”

“You know I want to, but at the same time, I gotta wonder what the point of it would be.”  
“There is no point other than I’d just like to see you and spend some time with you and maybe talk about this,” Hunnigan muttered. “Truth is, I’ve been kind of miserable without you here to mess up my kitchen.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but I highly doubt it,” Helena smirked.

“Well, okay, I didn’t miss you messing my kitchen, but I do miss having you here with me. I’ve found it especially unpleasant to go to sleep alone,” Hunnigan said. Like Leon had put it, she _did_ miss Helena’s breath on the back of her neck when falling asleep.

“…all right, I’m on my way.”

* * *

“What’s this? A polite way of letting me know my breath stinks?” Helena quirked an eyebrow when she unwrapped the item Hunnigan had given her and discovered a toothbrush.  
“It’s a gesture, smartass,” Hunnigan smirked as she sat next to Helena on the couch. “It goes together with this, and the shelves I cleared for you in the closet,” she then added and gave Helena her spare key.

“My, my, my, Ms. Hunnigan, are you asking me to move in?”  
“Well, as much as I’ll undoubtedly miss having the option to kick you out when I need my _space_ …”

“Charming.”  
“…I don’t want you to feel like just a guest in my house, I want this to be your home too.”

“So, does that mean I get to mess up your kitchen?” Helena inquired and Hunnigan sighed a little.  
“We’ll talk about it,” she said and got up from the couch, heading toward the kitchen.

“How about the toothpaste situation, can I squeeze it in the middle or will you have a bitch fit if I do that?” Helena continued her ridiculous questioning as she followed Hunnigan.  
“We’ll talk about it.”

“Then there’s the whole ‘I drink milk straight out of the carton’-thing, but I only do that when I’m hungover,” Helena shrugged, turned so that she was facing away from the kitchen counter and lifted herself up to sit on the edge of it.

“I guess I’ll just have to get used to all that, like you’ll have to get used to the fact that I like to keep things organized, which means that I _will_ organize your stuff too whether you like it or not,” Hunnigan smirked, grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and handed the other to Helena.

“Okay, not,” she grinned and twisted the cap off the bottle.  
“And remember that I will still have a personal life, so there will be times I’ll lock myself away into my study and blatantly ignore you just so that I can hang out with my online buddies.”

“Which is fine, I can use the time to do the same, only I’ve got real life friends because I’m not an introverted nerd,” Helena teased and Hunnigan scoffed, took a sip of her beer and exhaled deeply through her nose.

“So, how long is this trial run going to be and when will it become acceptable to fart in front of you?” Helena then asked in mock-seriousness.

“Oh, I think we passed that point when you stopped bothering to close the door when you’re in the bathroom,” Hunnigan scoffed amusedly.  
“Yeah, but at least I put the toilet seat down when I’m done, so I got that going for me,” Helena said and Hunnigan laughed, shaking her head a little.

“You know, I think I’ve actually already gotten used to most of your quirks, so it probably won’t be all that long before I ask you to move in properly,” she smiled then and moved to stand in front of Helena, resting her hands on the younger woman’s hips.  
“Well, I’m beyond trying to pretend I’m something that I’m not, and what would be the point of being together if we can’t be comfortable around each other?” Helena shrugged and wrapped her legs around Hunnigan’s waist.

“I know, and you’re the only person I don’t mind having around violating my boundaries,” Hunnigan smiled and leaned to kiss Helena.  
“High praise indeed,” she muttered into the kiss and slipped her arms around Hunnigan’s shoulders, holding onto her tightly.

***


	26. Hate love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. (Cleon)"

“No, obviously I do not know what time it is,” Claire replied when Leon finally answered her phone call.  
“Well, it’s three in the morning, so this better be a booty call,” he said, his smile easy to hear in his voice.

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Claire said, leaning her elbow to her thigh as she sat up on the edge of her bed.

“What kind of nightmare?” Leon inquired and exhaled sleepily, and Claire could easily imagine him lying on his back with his left arm crossed under his head. The blanket was probably down to his waist if he had one at all, she recalled he preferred sleeping without it… which was good, because she had the tendency to hog the covers and wrap herself up in them tightly.

“Uh, you were being eaten by a giant spider,” Claire said. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but not really a lie either. The being consuming him alive hadn’t been a spider, it had been Ada Wong, slowly dissolving him one strip of flesh at a time, and shockingly, he’d been completely oblivious to what was causing his pain.

Claire felt it was a pretty accurate description of how it really was. And obviously it was a manifestation of her own insecurities and worries, she admitted. Leon was a good man, but when it came to Ada, he’d always been an idiot. An utter and complete idiot.

“Well, considering everything, I gotta admit, that’s a very realistic possibility,” he chuckled softly.

Claire was about to speak again when she heard someone ask who Leon was talking to. He mumbled something, the light scratching sound coming through implying Leon covered the phone with his hand as he spoke. His effort was in vain, she’d already heard the voice speaking and recognized it easily. Ada. Of course, who else.

“Anyway… I’m sorry I woke you, I just wanted to check up on you, I should go,” Claire said as her previous, much more pleasant mental image of Leon alone disintegrated and was replaced with something she didn’t really want to even imagine.  
“It’s okay, and I appreciate you checking up on me,” Leon said softly.

“Yeah, anytime… good night,” Claire said and ended the call before he had a chance to say anything more.

Claire wished she could’ve written off her feelings as something as simple a jealousy, but it wasn’t that, not purely. She was sad because he kept falling for Ada over and over no matter how many times Ada betrayed him in one way or another. She was angry, at him more than at Ada. Angry because even after everything she and Leon had been through in the past twenty years, he still chose Ada over her.

_Why her and not me?_

Maybe it was a case of something as simple as wanting what you can’t have. Ada was never there, not unless there was something she wanted for her own goals, whatever those were at any given time. They met only when it suited her, and afterward, almost every single time, she ended up taking something from him and leaving without as much as a goodbye.

Sure, she helped him at times, at least that’s what Leon always insisted happened… but that didn’t change the fact that she was slowly eating him alive, taking little pieces of him with her as she abandoned him over and over.

All that left Claire wondering why she still stayed. She couldn’t imagine anyone else would’ve in her shoes, but here she was, always prepared to pick Leon up and dust him off after Ada had cast him aside until he came to have something else she wanted. Love could be a bitch as it was but loving someone who didn’t care about your feelings was worse. Ironically, Leon knew exactly what that was like, he just didn’t seem to realize he was doing the exact same thing to Claire as Ada did to him.

Claire often contemplated on telling him that he was on his own, that she wouldn’t be here for him anymore, not unless he would commit to her the same way she was prepared to do for him. But that would’ve been a pointless ultimatum. She already knew how he’d choose… and at the end of the day, she didn’t want him to confirm what she already knew. She wanted to have the option to ignore the truth and disappear into the world of blissful denial where Leon would care if she made that ultimatum, where he'd choose her, where he'd want her and no one else.

She wanted to have the option to convince herself that one day, he’d realize what was happening and he’d forget about Ada, and finally realize Claire was the one who’d always been there for him. It was an adolescent fantasy at best, and Claire knew it, but she still wanted to hold onto it… no matter how self-destructive she knew it was.

But, that was love at its worst. A self-destructive force that made one pathetic, incredibly cruel and stupid.

_I hate love._

***


	27. Cherry bark and almonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to “I fell in love with my best friend" for Cleon.  
> At first I was considering writing this from Leon's point of view, but then I was like "you know what, I've already written at least one 'Leon gets an awkward boner'-story, let's give Claire woman wood because girls get horny too, they just don't talk about it nonstop." This turned out smuttier than I'd expected, but it's lovingly so. At least, that was my intention.;P Also, the Hunniper reference in this is set in the same universe as "Miss September", but it's not necessary to read that to get this, it is mentioned only in a few lines of dialogue.

Leon was late, but Claire didn’t mind; she’d known he would be late. He always was. It was almost October, but the weather was still quite warm and sunny in D.C., Claire had expected it to be rainier. Since the opportunity was there, Claire had taken a seat outside on the patio, enjoying the sunlight and the crisp air. Claire finished the coffee she’d gotten while waiting for Leon and headed inside the coffeehouse to get another. She glanced at her watch and decided to order a coffee for Leon as well. He should be here soon, he was almost never more than twenty minutes late.

“I am so sorry,” Leon apologized when he finally arrived and took a seat at the tiny round table.  
“It’s okay,” Claire assured with a smile and slowly slid the coffee she’d gotten for him across the table.

“Thank you,” he said as he accepted the mug and took a sip. Just like he liked it, not that it was difficult to remember how he liked his coffee: black.

“How are you?” Claire then asked, and Leon shrugged one shoulder a little. There wasn’t much to tell... other than things he didn’t really want to talk about any more than Claire probably wanted to hear it. The constant fight was her life too, this was a day off for them both.

“I’ve been okay. I finally got that bike I was telling you about. I was thinking about taking a little road trip next summer, you should come with if you have the time,” he smiled.  
“Sounds fun, I’ll keep that in mind,” Claire nodded. “How’s Sherry?”

“She’s doing great, she makes an excellent agent. I think she’s currently on protective detail somewhere in Norway,” Leon answered.  
“Good for her! Any interesting office gossip?” Claire then inquired with a grin and Leon chuckled a little.

“Well, let’s see. Hunnigan divorced Thomas.”  
“Really? That’s a shame, they made a good-looking couple and he seemed like a nice guy. Granted, I only met them once at that Christmas party, so I guess I wouldn’t know really,” Claire commented and took a sip of her coffee.

“Yeah, well, she had a good reason,” Leon said, and his devious grin made Claire frown a little.  
“Go on, you obviously know something more and you’re just dying to tell me.”

“She’s dating Helena now.”  
“Triple-H?” Claire’s eyebrows rose, and it was Leon’s turn to frown as he tried to understand the connection. He didn’t think Claire was referring to the WWE wrestler.

“Oh, it’s a silly nickname Sherry and I came up with. Triple-H as in HotHead-Helena,” Claire elaborated, and Leon bust laughing in the middle of taking a drink of his coffee, ending up blowing a generous splash of the beverage onto his face.  
“Yup, same woman,” he confirmed, wiping coffee from his face with a napkin.

“Well, that _is_ news.”  
“Oh, but I haven’t even told you the best part yet.”

“There can’t possibly be more to that.”  
“Hunnigan’s pregnant and Thomas is the father, but he doesn’t know, and Hunnigan doesn’t intend to tell him because he never wanted kids, so I’m assuming she’s intending to raise the baby with Helena.”

“Wow, you’re more into office gossip than I thought,” Claire remarked with a smirk.  
“Nah, I just hear things because Helena tends to forget that the radio frequency we’re on isn’t exactly private and she gets chatty with Hunnigan when it’s quiet during a mission,” Leon explained.

“Anyway, that’s about it, nothing very new or exciting. What about you, what’s up?” he then asked.

“Nothing much to report here either, I spend most of my time just working. I don’t go out on field assignments very often these days. I don’t know how, but I kind of ended up stuck in an office doing the boring paperwork because after the incident at Sushestvovanie island, someone had to take over Neil’s job, and it ended up being me since I knew my way around it. But honestly… it’s a headache. Give me a zombie any day over that,” Claire sighed, and Leon chuckled quietly.

“Yeah, zombies at least can be shot, paperwork is forever,” he said.  
“Exactly. But yeah… I guess I shouldn’t complain, at least it’s been relatively quiet recently. Well, since June anyway.”

“True, let’s enjoy it while it lasts,” he said, raised his mug a little and she clinked her against his to toast the blessed boredom.

* * *

“You’ve lost weight,” Leon said after eyeing Claire from head to toe as they walked toward her apartment after stopping at a grocery store to pick up snacks and drinks for their “booze, junk food and movies”-night.  
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Claire laughed, glancing back over her shoulder and quirking an eyebrow when she caught him staring at her butt.

“It is, you’re looking far too skinny,” he replied bluntly. “I’m just worried about you,” he then defended his words when Claire glared at him.  
“Well, to be honest, it’s been kind of a rough year, I guess the stress does that,” she sighed and linked her arm with his as they walked.

“You gotta remember to take care of yourself rather than always just save the world, you know,” he said.  
“You’re one to talk,” she teased with a smile. “But, at least now I can eat excessive amounts of chocolate without having to feel guilty about it,” she then added.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in Claire’s apartment and had set an assortment of sweet and salty snacks on the coffee table, a cooler filled with ice and beer underneath the table so that they wouldn’t need to get up and go to the kitchen for drinks. In other words, everything was set for the perfect lazy evening.

“I couldn’t remember the name of this movie for the life of me, but then I saw one of the actors in another movie and Googled him, and voilá,” Claire said as she dramatically whipped out a VHS cassette. She put the tape in the machine and handed the cover to Leon.

“ _Short time_ ,” he read the title, “seems interesting.”

“Yeah, Chris still had the tape, I remember him showing this to me when I was a kid. I didn’t understand what was so funny about some of the parts I recall him laughing at, maybe I’ll get the jokes now,” Claire said, sat on the couch and grabbed the remote.

Leon regarded her amusedly when she became obviously somewhat frustrated as she browsed through the TV’s settings, trying to find the correct input for the VCR. She hadn’t used the machine in ages.

“Here, let me.”  
“I’ve got it!” she scoffed at him and yanked the remote further from him, cycling through the settings one more time and finding the right input.

Once the movie was finally playing, Claire grabbed the bowl of popcorn and placed it onto the couch between herself and Leon so that they’d both have better access to it. He didn’t seem all that interested in eating though and rather grabbed a beer from the cooler.

Claire recently hadn’t had a chance to spend as much time with him as she would’ve liked, but the few times they had hung out, she’d noticed he did tend to drink a lot. The fact that he never really got drunk despite the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed spoke volumes of his tolerance being rather high which in return told her he was used to drinking a lot and often. She didn’t think it was her place to comment since it wasn’t any of her business and she didn’t judge him; on the contrary.

If all the things he’d gone through hadn’t left any marks on him, she would’ve been more worried than she was now. The cracks and tears in his shell were visible and at the end of the day, that was a good thing. They made him human. The pain made him human. She supposed it was ironic that she was glad to see he still felt something while simultaneously wishing she could’ve erased the hurt.

It had only recently occurred to her that it had been over fifteen years since they’d met back in Raccoon City. During those years, she’d come to realize that he was the one person she’d always been able to rely upon, even more so than she’d relied upon Chris. He was the protective big brother, but at times that meant he made himself disappear to protect her and contacting him could be a challenge. Leon, on the other hand, was more available.

Claire admitted that it was mostly because Hunnigan wasn’t above blatantly violating protocol and relaying a message to Leon even when he was on a mission if Claire asked, whereas the B.S.A.A. agents outright refused to do the same under any circumstances since doing so might possibly compromise the agents on duty. Claire couldn’t really blame Chris for that, and she never had. But the fact remained that Leon was the most reliable person in her life.

“What?” Leon asked when he noticed she was staring at him, and she sat up straight, shaking her head a little.  
“Nothing, I was just thinking, and I realized you’re my best friend.”

“Well, I can say the same about you,” he smiled, leaned back on the couch and crossed one leg over the other, stretching his arm over the backrest of the couch. Claire moved the bowl of popcorn out of the way and scooted closer to him, raising her feet onto the couch and leaned to rest her head on his chest, wrapping her arm around his midsection.

“…everything okay?” he asked quietly and turned his head a little, resting his chin on the top of her head, lowering his arm a little so that he could put it around Claire’s shoulders.  
“Yeah… yeah, I just… can I stay here? I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?” she asked, and Leon frowned a little at her oddly serious tone of voice.

“You’re not, and you can stay there for as long as you want,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head before turning his attention back to the movie, raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip.

Claire had stopped paying attention a while ago already. Apparently, she probably wouldn’t find out what Chris had laughed at so heartily way back when today either. She closed her eyes, the sounds from the movie fading away in the background as she concentrated on the sound of his breathing and the liquid splashing quietly in the bottle of beer as he drank from it once more. He chuckled softly and silently, the only thing giving it away being the way his abdomen seemed to recoil as the amusement erupted from him subtly.

Claire couldn’t say how long she’d stayed there, just enjoying the feel of having him close to her and the warmth radiating from his body, but evidently it had been long enough for the movie to end. Leon moved slowly to grab the remote from the coffee table, his movements careful as if he was worried about waking her, obviously not realizing she was awake. He stopped the tape and hit rewind, the familiar but nowadays so rarely heard sound of the machine whirring as it wound the tape back filling the room.

Leon began to flip through the channels, the fingers of his free hand finding their way to softly stroke the nape of Claire’s neck and gently tug on strands of auburn hair as he spun them around his fingers. Claire swallowed hard at the warm touch but didn’t say anything or move, she didn’t want him to stop and she worried he might if he realized she was awake.

She found herself almost desperately wanting to slip her fingers underneath his shirt and feel his bare skin against her own. She wanted to straddle him and put her arms around his shoulders, sink her fingers into his hair and pull him to herself. She wanted her chest pressed against his chest. She wanted to taste his breath, kiss him so hard it might split her lips, feel his stubble sting her face as she did. She wanted the same furious passion fueled by adrenaline and the need to feel alive that she’d felt with him once before, shortly after Raccoon City, at an abandoned cabin where they’d taken shelter to rest for a while. Funnily enough, the only one taking a proper rest at the time had been Sherry, who’d fallen asleep almost the moment her head had hit the pillow.

They’d never spoken of it since then, and Claire had run off to search for Chris almost immediately after. She still didn’t think Leon had ever forgiven her for that. But she didn’t regret it, not even after everything she wished she would’ve done somewhat differently.

She’d never told him she loved him. She’d never told him he’d been her first. What would’ve been the point? Every time they’d ran into each other since then had only strengthened her belief that she’d made the right call by not telling him.

Lately, however, they’d begun spending more time together, doing delightfully ordinary things like having a coffee and chatting or going to the movies. Despite everything Moira had said while teasing Claire about Leon being her boyfriend, her relationship with him had always been just friendly, platonic… aside from that one time over fifteen years ago.

But now, things felt different. Claire had given herself the permission to cautiously begin hoping that maybe they could both just lead normal lives, at least for the most part. And if they could do that, maybe they could be together like this more often, only not just as friends.

Claire inhaled deeply through her nose and shifted a little on the couch. His close presence had caused a red hot blade of arousal lash through her, the exquisite ache cascading through her insides and pooling between her legs causing the pressure she felt to grow from deliciously sweet into something almost unbearable. It was a pleasant ache for now, but she knew it wouldn’t last unless it was dealt with or unless she could figure out a way to convince her mind and body to switch it off and shut it down. The fact that she could _feel_ Leon looking at her didn’t do anything to help her. It was all she could do to not just tilt her head back and push herself upward a little and capture his lips into a kiss. Claire bit her lower lip.

_He knows. Oh, my God, he knows,_ she thought even though the odds of her being right were ridiculously low.

“Are you all right?” Leon asked, and Claire sighed a little at the genuine concern she could hear in his voice. Somehow that made him even sexier right now.  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said and sat up. “I’ve gotta use the bathroom,” she then excused herself and got up.

She locked the door behind her and undid the buttons of her jeans, shoving them down her legs and stepping out of them. She then removed her underwear, folded them and used them to wipe off the excess slick wetness that had already soaked through the fabric.

_For God’s sake,_ she scoffed internally. She recalled once overhearing one of the more mature women at the office mention that once you hit your thirties, you can’t even get wet like you used to. Apparently, that wasn’t something Claire was suffering from despite being a few years past the magical thirty years-milestone. Either that or the woman who’d said it had never been with the right guy since turning thirty herself.

Claire put her jeans back on and splashed cold water on her face, pausing to lean against the sink and sighed, taking a long moment to just stare at the water drops slowly falling from her chin and into the sink. It helped very briefly until an errant thought rammed through her mind like a runaway train.

_I want to fuck him._

She’d spent more time than she cared to admit bitterly masturbating to the fantasy of slowly making love to him with gentle, quiet passion, but right now, she really _did_ just want to fuck him. She wanted him to throw her onto the bed and ravish her, she wanted to feel his weight on top of herself and his thick meaty cock inside her. She wanted—

“You okay in there? I’m not usually one to rush someone in a delicate situation like this, but I kind of need the bathroom myself, beer flows right through me,” Leon called out from the living room, his words followed by a warm chuckle. Claire cursed under her breath, threw the wet panties into the laundry hamper and shut the lid of it before exiting the bathroom.

“All yours,” she told him happily and went back to sit in the corner of the couch, reaching to grab a beer as well, staring at the TV but not really caring about the antics of the sitcom-characters displayed on the screen.  
“Leon, we need to talk,” she finally told him once he returned to his seat.

“Uh-oh, this can’t be good. For the record, I’m not an alcoholic, I don’t go to any meetings,” he tried joking and Claire smirked slowly.  
“You should consider going, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“Well, in that case, what’s up?” he said and turned to sit sideways on the couch, bending one leg at the knee and sitting on it, leaning his side against the backrest of the couch.  
“For the past fifteen years you’ve been the constant in my life, the most reliable person in my life… and you have no idea how much I really needed you after escaping that island, and how much it meant to me that you actually were there through thick and thin.”

“Of course I was going to be there, you’re important to me,” Leon interjected quietly.

“You didn’t have to be, but you were, and I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am of that. Like I said, you’re my best friend, and you have been for a long time. And recently I’ve come to realize that… I fell in love with my best friend,” Claire said, her voice softly quieting toward the end of the sentence, but Leon heard her loud and clear.

“Oh. Well. That’s…”  
“I know, probably not something you wanted to hear, I mean… the whole time I’ve known you, you’ve been quite the ladies’ man,” Claire smirked, and Leon chuckled awkwardly.

“Ah, not really, it was mostly just… a young man’s unnecessary bravado,” he confessed.

“Still though, you’re a flirt, and I don’t think you’re the kind of a guy who’d even know where to begin settling down, so I’m not even gonna suggest that. I just… I had to tell you, even if it might ruin our friendship… which I hope it won’t. But the reason I had to tell you is because I know I’d feel… guilty for being so close to you and secretly enjoying it a lot more than you’d think.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ridiculous at all,” he said sarcastically.  
“I know, I know, I never claimed it made sense,” Claire chuckled and exhaled deeply then, shaking her head a little.

“Claire…” he whispered and scooted closer to her, reaching to take her hands into his own. “You have to have known that I’ve always loved you.”  
“I… did not. Why would I have known? As I said, you were always flirting with practically anyone who had a pair of boobs.”

“Yeah, well, it never meant anything serious… which is why I’ve never flirted with you. I can joke around and be flirty with anyone else because it’s just a bit of fun, but it would actually mean something if I did it with you, which is why I never did. I was afraid it would hurt.”

“I don’t think you would hurt me.”  
“I wouldn’t, at least not knowingly… but it wasn’t you I was worried about, it was me; I was scared it would hurt me.”

“Leon… likewise, I wouldn’t hurt you.”  
“I believe you, but you’re the only one who really could… and that’s what scares me,” he said, his voice growing somewhat hoarse.

“I’m sorry, but I have to kiss you,” Claire said and gave him barely a second to react before reaching to put her hands onto his cheeks and pressing her lips onto his. He quietly breathed her name into the kiss, his arms instinctively wrapping around her and enclosing her into a tight embrace. They remained there for a long while before Claire rose to stand on her knees on the couch and Leon gripped her hips to stop her from moving off the couch.

She quirked an eyebrow at his reaction, but the realization dawned on her when she noticed the intense way he was staring at her crotch which was conveniently almost directly at his eye level leaving Claire with very little means to hide the fact that the fabric of her jeans was noticeably darker where her wetness had soaked through. She offered him a lopsided grin and shrugged on shoulder a little. Leon grinned back at her and brought his hands up and slowly began unbuttoning her jeans. He pulled them halfway down her thighs and leaned forward, his hands still firmly gripping her hips.

“Leon…” Claire inhaled sharply when he slid his tongue slowly over the sensitive flesh, tilting his head back and moving his hands lower to possessively grip her ass, silently appreciating the firmness of it. He pulled her to himself tighter so that he could slip the tip of his tongue deeper and let it tease her entrance before slowly curling his tongue to gather up as much of her taste as he could.

Claire moaned his name again, sinking her fingers into his hair, her hips swaying back and forth in sync with the rhythm of his tongue, her movements becoming more insistent and he enclosed his lips around her clit, lightly sucking on it and grinding his tongue against it in a slow pattern. He wouldn’t have minded staying there longer, but Claire balled her hand into a fist, softly tugging on a handful of his hair and pulling back from him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and Claire had to stifle a little laugh; he looked so confused, but what really made him look somewhat comical was the way his chin and upper lip were glistening with wetness.  
“Nothing. I just want a lil’ sumthin’ else…” Claire explained then and kicked her jeans off before moving to straddle his knees, lowering her hand down to stroke the growing bulge tucked into the left leg of his pants.

“Who you callin’ lil’?” he smirked quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, honestly, if memory serves me right, you’re anything but lil’…” she trailed off with a smile and raised her arms up as he pushed her shirt up and tugged it off of her, doing the same to her bra, too impatient to bother undoing the hooks. She leaned back, exhaling deeply and closing her eyes when he trailed his lips over her breasts, the feel of his stubble gently scratching the sensitive skin surprisingly pleasant.

Finally, she practically ordered him to take her to the bedroom and he was more than happy to oblige, tightening his grip on her, carrying her across the room and onto the bed. He eagerly undid his pants and got rid of them while she shifted on the bed to a better position, turning onto her back. She didn’t say anything, she simply parted her legs a bit further and that was all the invitation he needed.

* * *

Cherry bark and almonds. Leon would’ve recognized Claire’s scent anywhere. For the longest time he’d been certain he’d imagined it, but the more he’d thought about it, the surer he’d become of the fact that Claire had smelled of cherry bark and almonds even during the hell that had been Raccoon City. A city filled with zombies, gore, fires and smoke, and somehow, that girl had managed to walk through it smelling like something incredibly sweet. Realistically, he knew he was exaggerating a little and that time had painted his memories with sweet shimmering gold, but her scent was what he remembered the best of that day.

Never had he ever imagined he’d one day get to wake up in her bed, the scent of her perfume and her body clinging to the sheets and pillows, its comforting familiarity surrounding him and filling him with pleasant warmth. He slowly opened his eyes and smiled.

Claire lay on her side next to him, her head on his chest, her arm around his midsection and her leg resting over his waist. She was still asleep, the sunlight seeping in through the pale curtains tinting her with a gentle rose gold glow. Leon trailed her eyebrow gently with the tip of his index finger, slowly sliding it over her cheekbone, along her jawline and to the tip of her chin. He then moved to softly grip her chin with his thumb and index finger, leaning in to kiss her lips. She responded to the kiss sleepily, tightening her grip on him and hummed happily, a brilliant smile rising to her lips.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” she then inquired.

“Next to you, who wouldn’t?” he smiled back and kissed her lips once more.

“Flatterer,” Claire chuckled and snuggled into the side of his neck. “Can we stay here for like… the rest of the day?” she then asked in a tired, soft mutter.

“Believe me, there’s nothing that would make me want to get up,” Leon replied, kissed her forehead and nuzzled the top of her head, once again inhaling the sweet scent of cherry bark and almonds, or as he’d just come to call it, “Red”. He closed his eyes, breathing her in and sighed happily, realizing that this was the first time in his entire life that he could say he genuinely knew what it meant to be truly content.

* * *

**Author's note: for the record, this was the scene of that movie that made Chris laugh.**

* * *

 

 

 


	28. Boring day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to "You had one job" for Chris / Rebecca. Not sure how I feel about this, but it's... something. :D

 

Rebecca paused at the kitchen door, slowly folding her arms over her abdomen as she leaned her shoulder to the door frame, an amused smile rising to her lips as she watched Chris, who was completely unaware of her presence. He was wearing only his black boxer briefs and he was dancing, his moves slightly less than impressive, but not bad.

He had headphones on and she couldn’t hear what he was listening to, quite possibly one of those garage rock bands he’d been into since his mission in Northern Europe with the local team, the couple of members he’d quickly befriended (Rebecca still wasn’t sure if Chris realized his new friends weren’t actually named Finn and Dane or if he’d never even thought about it) having exposed him to some of the bands he’d never heard of before.

Unfortunately, music wasn’t the only things Finn and Dane had introduced to Chris; they’d also told him about certain local delicacies that Rebecca sincerely wished he hadn’t brought back home with him. “Delicacies” such as blood pancakes.

“Whoa, you were not supposed to see that,” Chris commented awkwardly, tugging the headphones down from over his ears after turning while busting a move and finally noticing her.  
“You don’t say?” Rebecca quirked an eyebrow and grinned.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, because I can’t find the blood,” Chris then said.  
“Uhm…”

“You forgot to bring it.”  
“Not ‘forgot’ as much as I didn’t want to bring it.”

“You had one job!” Chris whined.  
“Yeah, well, you’re the one eating the horrible things, why do I have to bring the blood? I swear, I’ve been at the butcher’s buying pig’s blood so many times this week he probably thinks I’m trying to film my own version of _Carrie!”_

“You are ruining my breakfast.”  
“You are ruining my mood,” Rebecca said, glaring at him over the frame of her glasses, her voice dropping to a threatening low tone as she put her hands on her hips to finalize her defiant stance.

“Okay, compromise. I’ll make spinach pancakes, but those need to be eaten with apple sauce or it’s just wrong, and we don’t have any, so since you ‘forgot’ the pig’s blood yesterday, you have to get the apple sauce now,” Chris said, crossing his arms over his abdomen.

“Fine,” Rebecca rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t be a long trip since the apartment building was literally next door to a small convenience store but knowing that didn’t make her any less reluctant to get dressed, put her shoes on and go there. Granted, getting properly dressed was optional; she’d gone to the store in her pajamas on days she’d forgotten to buy coffee and needed her mug first thing in the morning. The most brilliant part about it was that she wasn’t the only one who did that, she’d seen other people dressed similarly in there. Not on the same day, but more times than one would expect.

“Hey, Jane. Just this,” Rebecca greeted the owner behind the counter and put the apple sauce on it, eyeing the wall behind the redhead and then decided to add something to her shopping list.

“Actually, give me a pack of Marlboro red, too,” she then said. A small peace offering.  
“I take it the big guy’s home,” Jane chuckled as she grabbed the cigarettes.

“Yeah, and I’ve been trying to encourage him to quit, but he keeps saying you’d be disappointed because every time you see him, you immediately get a pack ready the moment he walks in the door.”  
“That’s because he never buys anything else from here, it’s easy to remember what he’s gonna get,” Jane laughed, and Rebecca paid for the items.

“Have a boring day!” Jane then wished Rebecca as she was heading out, and Rebecca laughed.  
“Likewise!” she called out over her shoulder. As different as their line of work was, they had one thing in common: a boring day was a good day.

* * *

“You know what I really love about you?” Rebecca asked after dinner when Chris gathered up the dishes and went to take them into the kitchen. They’d spent most of the day cuddling on the couch and the plan was to spend the rest of the day doing exactly the same.

“Oh, that’s a toughie,” he chuckled as he returned to the living room with a small blue bag of what Rebecca assumed was candy.

“That you do chores. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve overheard the phrase ‘doesn’t your husband help with the chores?’, and I’ thinking… why is it called ‘helping’, it’s not the woman’s job to do them all by herself while leaving the man with the option to pitch in. I never have to nag at you about stuff like doing the dishes, and that’s nice,” Rebecca said, and Chris smiled, shrugging one shoulder a little.

He’d never really thought about it, he’d always picked up after himself. He’d also gotten used to making his own meals and doing his own laundry, and there were times when he’d sewn a button back on to his shirts; all chores typically considered feminine and something a man should need a woman to do for him. Why that was, he’d never understood.

Funnily (or sadly) enough, apparently him being capable of looking after himself was enough to convince a lot of people that he was gay. There were men he cared for, respected and looked up to, but he’d never found himself attracted to them, not romantically or sexually. Frankly, the latter wasn’t something he felt very often in general.

“And I don’t have to complain that you never cook for me,” Rebecca then said, and Chris smiled. Honestly, he was the better cook out of the two of them, and he rather liked cooking.  
“Speaking of, how about some dessert?” he asked, and she quirked an eyebrow, assuming he was speaking with double entendres, but then he held out the bag of candy. Rebecca took a piece only to spit it out a few seconds later.

“ _That_ is not dessert!” she almost yelled and took the bag to read the ingredients. Obviously, a gift from Finn. “What kind of a monster would pass off ammonium chloride as candy?” she exclaimed and tossed the bag onto the table, and Chris laughed softly.

“I like them,” he said and bit the hard candy impatiently, wanting to crack it and get to the salmiak powder in the center.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome to keep them as far as I’m concerned,” Rebecca smirked. She settled to lay back down on the couch and Chris followed her example, settling to rest behind her. She turned around in his arms and reached to put her hand over the back of his neck, leaning to kiss him (despite the salmiak aftertaste still lingering on his lips and his breath) softly. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer and holding her tightly.

“Chris…” she said softly and rose to rest her weight on her forearm.  
“Yeah?” 

“You’ve been… very patient with me. I mean, you’ve never put any pressure on me and you’ve always been a perfect gentleman, and I promise you I wasn't making you wait just for the hell of it,” Rebecca began, and Chris cleared his throat quietly.  
“Yeah, well, you know… it's fine, really,” he trailed off awkwardly. Frankly, he'd been kind of dreading the day Rebecca would bring the subject up.

“Is everything okay?” Rebecca frowned, and he sighed deeply.

“Not really,” he admitted and sat up, running his hand over his face as he tried to figure out a way to word it. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“What?” she asked softly, sat up as well and turned to face him. He seemed somewhat embarrassed and Rebecca didn’t rush him. Instead, she reached to put her hand over his forearm, running the side of her thumb along the thick vein easily visible under his skin.

“I know what you’re thinking and no, that’s not it, everything… functions as it should… despite what the warning labels on cigarette packs say,” he then smirked, eliminating the obvious answer, and Rebecca had to admit that really had been the first thing that had crossed her mind.

“So, what’s wrong?” she asked, and he sighed again.  
“Okay… um. I’m here with a beautiful woman I love very much,” he began and cupped Rebecca’s cheek with his hand. She smiled at the compliment but had to admit she wasn’t looking forward to hearing the rest.

“I know that I should… want to… you know,” he muttered and shrugged one shoulder a little. “…but I don’t. And no, I’m not gay either, so that’s not it,” he added somewhat hastily.  
“So, you’re saying you don’t want to…?”

“I know I should. But I don’t. And it’s not you, I don’t want you to ever think that. Like I said, there’s something wrong with me,” Chris said. Rebecca moved closer to him and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly and ran her fingers through his short, dark hair.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Chris,” she assured him and nuzzled the side of his neck.  
“I find that kind of hard to believe,” he scoffed softly, and she kissed his cheek.

“To me it just sounds like you might be asexual,” she reasoned as she pulled back from the hug. He turned to face her and frowned.  
“I don’t know what that means,” he confessed.

“Well, honestly, the semantics regarding all the details can be quite headache-inducing, but basically it means you have no interest in having sex,” she explained.  
“But I like all the other stuff, you know… making out and cuddling and all that,” he said, and Rebecca nodded.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”  
“…so… does it bother you?”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca shrugged one shoulder, “it might at some point,” she said honestly. Chris nodded slowly. He couldn’t blame her, after all, who didn’t want to feel desired?  
“We’ll just have to talk about it openly and see what happens.”

“But I don’t know what to say,” Chris mumbled.  
“I don’t either at the moment, this isn’t exactly something that we can just chat out in five minutes,” she chuckled gently and took his hands into her own. “Besides, it sounds to me like you have a lot of things to figure out about yourself too.”

“I really like what we have, and I don’t want to lose you. Especially not over this”  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Rebecca said softly, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze.

“That’s… so good to hear,” Chris said a relieved smile rising to his lips.  
“All right. So… what do you say we binge-watch _Orange is the new black_ and eat ice cream straight out of the pint?”

“You read my mind,” Chris laughed and got up to get the ice cream. When he returned, he handed Rebecca the other spoon and took a seat on the couch. She leaned against him, letting her left arm wrap around his waist as she raised her feet onto the couch. He put his arm around her shoulders and placed the pint of ice cream down, wincing a little at the cold that seeped through the fabric of his jeans and to his skin.

“We need to do this more often,” Chris then said.  
“Definitely,” Rebecca agreed.

 ***


	29. Strangers - friends - lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to “How have you never had hot chocolate at 2 in the morning?” for Hunnigan and Leon.

Hunnigan groaned and grabbed her phone from the bedside table, thumbed the screen to answer and raised the phone to her ear. No one spoke on the other and then she heard the ringing again, and she realized it wasn’t her phone that was ringing, it was her doorbell. She sighed, got up and scuffed into the foyer, pausing to look through the peephole on the door. A man stood at her door, his head hanging low, his chin pressed toward his chest. She couldn’t see his face, but she would’ve recognized that head of hair anywhere.

Hunnigan opened the door Leon had been leaning into and he stumbled forward, practically falling on top of her. She caught him and helped him regain his balance before closing the door and assisting him with removing his jacket. He reeked of bourbon. She was expecting an explanation to his sudden appearance at this hour, or at least a hello, but instead, he slumped onto her couch like he lived here.

“Take your shoes off, for Christ’s sakes,” she scoffed and went to intercept his intention to raise his feet onto the couch.  
“Sorry,” he muttered, took his shoes off and then lay down.

“What are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?” she sighed.  
“I read your file. I had no idea your middle name is Alaska. Which is a weird name… but it’s also kind of cool. Your parents must like cold stuff, isn’t Ingrid the name of some fairy tale ice queen?” he pondered but she ignored him.

“Why were you reading my file?”  
“Because I needed to know where you live!”

“Why?”  
“So that I could come over.”

“Why did you need to come over?” she asked in exasperation. This conversation was getting stupid.  
“I just got back from Ashley’s birthday party. She turned thirty-four. It’s hard to imagine just how long it’s been…”

“And I assume there was an open bar,” Hunnigan commented dryly and took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, shoving at his feet until he bent his legs so that they were out of her way.  
“You got it! How was I supposed to resist?”

“Right, so what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if you felt like offering me a cup of hot chocolate on this fine, chilly evening,” he muttered with a smile and she scoffed. The last time he’d asked her the same thing, it had been July and they’d been stuck at the annual and mandatory agency event, aka the “team spirit weekend” at a cabin by a lake. He’d shown up with hot chocolate (his had been more whiskey than hot chocolate, really) and she’d informed him that she’d never had hot chocolate at that hour, especially in July.

“How have you never had hot chocolate at two in the morning?” had been his only comment before he’d just decided to take a seat on her bed and sip hot chocolate like it had been a sleepover.

“Leon, what are you doing here really?” she asked impatiently once more. He got up for a second only to settle to lay back down, this time he moved to rest his head in her lap, his unshaven cheek stinging the bare skin of her thigh that was visible underneath the long T-shirt she slept in. She cleared her throat a little at that, not entirely uncomfortable but not exactly at ease either having him there. He didn’t seem to notice.

“It was good to see Ashley, but at the same time, being there just made me think back… to that time and place… and reminded me of the fact that I butchered an entire village,” Leon mumbled.  
“You didn’t have a choice,” Hunnigan said quietly. She didn’t even pretend to fully understand what it had to be like to live with things like that. Yes, the mission had been a success, but at what cost?

“They weren’t given a choice either,” he argued.  
“Leon, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t change anything,” he said and turned to lay on his back.  
“So, you came over for hot chocolate and to chat?” she inquired, offering a rueful smile.

“Yeah, kind of. You’re my support agent, so… support,” he smirked and Hunnigan chuckled softly.  
“What do you need?” she asked, and he stared at her. He was quiet for a long time and Hunnigan frowned.

“There’s something different about you.”  
“I’m not wearing my glasses,” Hunnigan offered jokingly.

“Oh, yeah! I never realized your eyes were so blue. And you have… eyelashes and everything. Your eyes are beautiful,” he said.  
“Yeah, you’ve already tried that line before and it didn’t work then either,” she dismissed with a sigh.

He muttered an incoherent response sleepily, and it didn’t take long for him to pass out after that. Hunnigan got up slowly, careful not to wake him and headed back into the bedroom. She admitted she was flattered he’d chosen to come over to talk to her (or, at the very least, attempt to talk), but she wished he would’ve done the sensible thing and spoken to the agency psychiatrist. Unfortunately, he only visited for the mandatory sessions required, and she knew he was smart enough to know how to give the answers needed to pass and be able to continue working as a field agent.

Hunnigan grabbed an extra blanket from the closet, draped it over Leon and got back into bed, hoping she could manage to fall back asleep, but already knowing it would be a challenge.

* * *

“Okay, okay, buddy,” Hunnigan said quietly in another room and Leon cracked one eye open slowly, almost not daring to look. He didn’t have any recollection of coming over to Hunnigan’s place, he could barely recall looking up her address. Judging from the fact that his face didn’t hurt, he probably hadn’t said or done anything stupid enough to cause her to punch him.

“You can’t be hungry, you just ate,” Hunnigan continued chatting and Leon sat up, running his hand over his face and through his hair to straighten it up. He felt rather embarrassed about having turned up here drunk last night, but he couldn’t say he regretted it.

He stood up and went to the kitchen where he’d heard her voice from. He took a moment to shamelessly stare at her butt, its shape emphasized in a nice way by the jeans she wore. She’d left her hair open, the brown slightly curled tresses cascading all the way to her lower back. He wondered why she didn’t leave it open more often. Perhaps F.O.S. agents had a dress code which dictated the officers should keep their hair tied.

“Good morning,” he finally said, his voice a bit hoarse and awkward.  
“Morning. Do you want coffee?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No thanks. How about a beer?”  
“How about no?” she chuckled and turned to face him, and his jaw dropped a little when he realized she was holding a baby, the child resting against her shoulder as she supported him with her arm, her palm flat against his back.

“Oh! Well. That’s… Hm. I didn’t…” he stuttered and Hunnigan bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. It was sort of fun to watch the usually so smooth man fumble. From the way he looked around she deduced he was worried the father of the baby would walk in.

“So… when’d that happen?” he inquired.  
“About six months ago.”

“What? How didn’t I know?” Leon frowned, and she shrugged one shoulder.  
“I don’t know. I suppose you were on furlough… or too drunk to notice…”

“What’s his name?” he then asked, ignoring the comment regarding his allegedly excessive drinking.  
“Elliot.”

“And is his dad gonna walk in any minute now to kick my ass?” Leon inquired.  
“Not likely,” she laughed softly, shaking her head, “I picked him out of a catalogue,” she elaborated, and he frowned deeply as he processed the words.

“You could’ve asked me for a donation,” he then grinned, and she quirked an eyebrow.  
“Knowing you, you would’ve insisted on making a direct deposit.”

“Maybe, but you gotta admit, that would’ve been more fun for you too,” he winked, and she rolled her eyes, grabbed her water and shrugged a little to adjust the fussy child in her arms.  
“I’m gonna go feed him. And no, you can’t watch,” she then told Leon and walked past him, heading into the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Leon looked through the cabinets until he finally found where Hunnigan kept mugs and glasses, and he grabbed one before proceeding to fill it with water, becoming aware of how thirsty he was only when he took the first swallow and couldn’t stop from emptying the glass in a few long gulps. He refilled the glass and took a seat at the kitchen table, leaning his chin in the cup of his hand as he stared out the window. The hum of traffic and the wind throwing rain drops harshly against the glass were the only sounds in the apartment at the moment.

 _Six months,_ he mused. He couldn’t believe he’d never even noticed Hunnigan had been pregnant. In his defense, they rarely met face-to-face, and he mostly saw only what was above her shoulders, it was difficult to tell from that.

 _No, stupid, the baby’s six months, she was expecting him the nine months prior, where was I?_ he pondered. He knew he hadn’t been on furlough for that long, but he couldn’t remember any missions… not any big and important ones anyway.

 _I’ve gotta stop drinking_ , he sighed internally before proceeding to do the math. It was early November now, so that—

“Oh, you’re still here,” Hunnigan said when she returned to the kitchen, apparently having gotten the baby to sleep. “Okay, that sounded a bit rude, but you know how I meant—”  
“You lied to me.”

“Excuse me?” Hunnigan scoffed.  
“July 2017. That’s when Elliot was conceived, isn’t it?”

“What’s your point?”  
“My point is that we shared more than hot chocolate that night,” he reminded her, unnecessarily.

“And you’ve just decided that you were the only one I ‘shared a hot chocolate’ with? Don’t flatter yourself. Besides, even if the timeline does match, that doesn’t eliminate the possibility of me having gotten impregnated via artificial insemination.”

“It seems a bit too convenient from where I’m looking at it,” Leon argued. “Tell me.”

“I’m not obligated to tell you anything, not even if you were the father, end of discussion,” Hunnigan informed him and he stood up. She didn’t take a step back when he stepped toward her. Anyone else would’ve.

“I need to know.”  
“Fine, you’re not the father,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”  
“Well, then I can’t help you,” Hunnigan shrugged and moved to walk past him, but he took a step to the side and blocked her.

“I will hurt you,” Hunnigan threatened him, but he didn’t listen.  
“If he’s my son and I played a part in bringing him into the world, I think I have the right to know about it.”

“Oh, please!” Hunnigan sneered at him. “It’s a miracle you managed to get your almost-whiskey dick anywhere near me let alone manage to keep at it until you actually came, but that’s as magnificent as your contribution gets.”

“So, you’re admitting I contributed?” he countered, ignoring the insult to his manhood, but not agreeing it was deserved because the way she described it wasn’t how he remembered it and it was obvious she was just looking to get him mad enough to leave and forget the conversation. They’d both been a bit a drunk at the time; not so drunk that they hadn’t known what they were doing but drunk enough to actually do it despite better judgment. And quite frankly, as far as he was concerned, it had actually been pretty damn good… as far as a sloppy drunken sex went anyway.

“I’m not admitting anything. This conversation is over.”  
“You’re being unreasonable!” he yelled and immediately regretted raising his voice.

“Oh, well done. Magnificent job, thank you so very much!” Hunnigan hissed at him furiously when the baby began to cry after Leon’s loud words had woken him up.  
“I’m sorry…!”

“Go home, Leon!”

He was about to do just that but changed his mind after standing at the front door for a long while. Finally, he turned on his heel and went to the bedroom. Hunnigan glared at him as she paced back and forth slowly, quietly hushing the fussing child and he began to settle down little by little.

“…if he’s mine, will you at least let me hold him for a while?” Leon asked in a soft mumble. When Hunnigan stepped toward him, he was expecting her to shut the door in his face. Instead, she moved to carefully hand the baby over to him and he swallowed hard.

“I didn’t plan it, but since it happened, I figured why not because as my mother ever so frequently likes to remind me, I’m not getting any younger, and having a kid at thirty-eight was pushing it already, so it was kind of now or never,” she muttered as he cradled the baby in his arms, the child’s agitation and discomfort replaced by confusion regarding seeing a new face. He reached to touch it, managing to punch Leon’s chin softly and leaving behind a tiny scratch, but Leon just chuckled at that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“I didn’t want to. I didn’t want you to think I was expecting you to step up or whatever, because I never asked for your opinion in the first place. I don’t want anything from you. Like you said, you’ve already made your contribution.”

“It never occurred to you that maybe I would want to be a part of his life?”  
“No. And it makes no difference even if you do because you’re not going to be,” Hunnigan said and went to Leon, moving into position to silently make it clear she wanted her child back.

“How can you say that?” Leon frowned and reluctantly gave the baby back to her.  
“By imagining the disappointments and heartbreaks he’d endure _when_ you’d let him down by not showing up to take him to the ball game because you’re lying passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere.”

“Harsh.”  
“Realistic.”

“I can quit drinking whenever I want.”  
“I’d assume that if that were true, you would’ve already done that,” Hunnigan said, turned around and lowered Elliot into his crib.

“It is true, I’ve just never really wanted to quit.”  
“Oh, and now that’s all magically changed and you’re gonna clean up your act and be father of the year,” Hunnigan mocked sarcastically.

“Now I have a reason to do something about it.”

“Leon, you’ve known about him for ten minutes. You’ve probably not even processed the information properly and tomorrow you won’t want to have anything to do with him. And if not tomorrow, then maybe next year. Or maybe after Elliot has already grown old enough to know you’re abandoning him. Why should I risk putting him through that?”

“What the hell makes you think I’d abandon him?” Leon frowned.  
“The way you’ve lived your life for the past fifteen years that I’ve known you.”

“You can’t seriously tell me you intend to keep me from seeing him, you’ve just admitted he’s mine, I have rights, don’t I?”

“As far as the legal system is concerned, no, you don’t. You’re not named anywhere as the father. And if I were you, I’d think twice before even considering suing me for custody because I am not above bringing up all the times I’ve had to pick you up from all over the country and the globe after your numerous drunken misadventures, so you can imagine how the court would decide when it comes to choosing a parent who can provide a stable home,” she narrowed her eyes at him and he sighed deeply, hanging his head low.

Truthfully, he hadn’t even considered that because Hunnigan was right.

“I’m not talking about custody, I’m not an idiot. I’m talking about you letting me see my son and be a part of his life. Your rules. Just let me be here. I could babysit for you.”  
“I’ll think about it,” Hunnigan responded in the diplomatic alternative to flat out saying no.

* * *

“Leon. What happened to your face? You look… oddly fresh. Did you get laid?” Helena teased as she got into the elevator with him.  
“Hah, no, but thanks for asking. I quit drinking. Two weeks sober, hooray for me,” he cheered somewhat sarcastically.

“Better than two days,” she shrugged. “So, what inspired this? A midlife crisis?”  
“I’m forty-one, that’s hardly… okay, yeah, it is old enough for that, but that’s not it. At least, I don’t think it is. I’m just trying to impress a lady,” he answered.

“Well, good luck with that. You’ll need it,” she smirked as she stepped out of the elevator once arriving to her floor.  
“I know you think you’re joking, but I do need it, so thanks,” he called out after her as the elevator doors closed and he continued up toward the top floor. He walked to the end of the long hallway and entered the beehive that was the F.O.S. agents’ office space.

He nodded silent greetings to the agents that were busily chattering with their field agents and headed toward the “aquarium” in the back of the room. It was called that because the walls were made of glass and it provided more of an illusion of privacy than actual privacy, but if the blinds and the door were closed it was better than nothing. It was Hunnigan’s office, probably the only real perk of having been promoted to be the head of F.O.S., the rest of it merely a fancier title with more responsibilities and not much more authority. Regardless, as far as this beehive went, she was the queen bee and even Leon didn’t have the balls to walk into her office without knocking first. As he’d expected, she visibly sighed at the sight of him.

“Have you thought about it?” he repeated the same question he’d stopped by to ask ever since she’d said she would and she responded like she always had.  
“No.”

“Oh, come on. It’s Friday. You should have a date, or you should get one, you already know you have a babysitter right here,” he said, pointing himself with his thumb.  
“I’m touched by your completely unselfish concern regarding my love life,” Hunnigan said dryly and Leon sighed, stepped inside the office and closed the door.

“Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg you to let me spend time with my son? Because I will do it, right here in front of everyone,” Leon said, knowing it would embarrass Hunnigan more than it would him.  
“For God’s sake, Leon,” she snapped and closed the blinds when he slowly began to lower himself. She then put her arm under his and yanked him back up.

“I’ve been sober for two weeks and yeah, it’s not much, but it should prove I can do it, contrary to what you seemed to think. Doesn’t that mean anything? Or did you never even intend actually giving me a chance?” he said as he stood up straight.

“All right. All right!” she scoffed. “Come by around six and I’ll… go see a movie or something.”  
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

* * *

Hunnigan had to admit Leon had stepped up and proven her wrong, and she’d also reluctantly admitted she did enjoy the free time having him babysit offered. She got home and kicked her shoes off, the familiar sound of Elliot babbling at Leon easily audible into the foyer. She shrugged off her jacket, tossed her purse onto the side table and headed into the living room. Elliot let out an excited shriek when he saw her and began to hastily scamper across the floor toward her.

“Come on! Come on!” she encouraged with a wide smile and knelt down, holding her arms out. His energy ran out after he’d crawled about halfway, and he slumped onto the thick wool carpet.  
“Good job,” Hunnigan complimented with a chuckle and picked him up, peppering his face with little kisses.

“How was the date?” Leon asked.  
“Horrible,” Hunnigan laughed and sat onto the couch and took off her glasses before Elliot had the chance to grab them from her face.

“When he said he was a jazz-enthusiast, I didn’t realize he meant Utah Jazz. I think it’s a baseball team or something.”  
“Basketball team, but go on,” Leon corrected.

“Yeah, well, he was wearing the team’s jersey over a denim button down shirt, and of course he refused to take it off even if it meant we weren’t allowed in the restaurant while he was wearing it. So, instead of having a nice dinner, he bought me a hot dog and we ate on a park bench.”

“Well… at least it was a date you’ll surely remember,” Leon laughed.  
“That’s something, true,” she chuckled.

“I made dinner if you’re still hungry even after your hot dog,” he then let her know.  
“That sounds amazing. Do you mind keeping an eye on Elliot while I eat?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Leon smirked and took Elliot into his arms as Hunnigan got up and headed into the kitchen.  
“Did Elliot eat all right?” she asked as she plated a generous amount of the lasagna he’d made. She’d been working on weaning Elliot and encourage him to eat solid foods, but it was beginning to seem he didn’t like anything.

“Honestly, I’m not sure because by the time the plate was empty, he was covered in food. I’m assuming some of it ended up in his mouth,” Leon replied.  
“Wonderful. At this rate he’ll stay clamped onto my breast until he’s eighteen,” Hunnigan sighed and Leon burst out laughing.

“Well, I can’t blame him, your breasts are great.”  
“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I can’t either, at first I was telling myself not to say it, but I did it anyway,” Leon commented when Hunnigan returned to the living room with her food and took a seat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and balancing the plate on her knee.  
“This is really good,” she then complimented after taking a taste of the food. He’d cooked dinner before and she knew he was quite a talented chef, but still, it always surprised her because he didn’t come across as someone who would be.  

“Thank you. I use a lot of cheese,” he smirked, and she chuckled.  
“You know, it’s Christmas soon. If you don’t have any plans, would you like to come over for dinner?” she then offered.

“I would love that,” he responded immediately.

* * *

“I have heard people say that turkey making you drowsy is a myth, but right now I’m not willing to believe it,” Leon huffed as he slumped onto the couch after dinner and theatrically proceeded to undo the button of his jeans.

“Maybe it’s more about just over eating in general that makes you sleepy,” Hunnigan commented. Elliot was on a mat on the floor apparently practicing doing push-ups, seemingly unaffected by the big meal (granted, most of his food had once again ended up on the floor and on whichever parent had made the attempt of feeding him). Hunnigan settled to lay on her back next to him and picked him up, eliciting a happy giggle from him as she made him “fly”. It was all fun and games until Elliot threw up and it landed straight on to Hunnigan’s forehead. Leon burst out laughing.

“Well, who didn’t see that coming?” Hunnigan sighed. “Leon, could you bring me a paper towel or something?” she requested, and he did.  
“I’ll go put him to bed so you can get properly cleaned up,” he then offered and Hunnigan nodded.

A while later, she paused at the bedroom door and spied on Leon as he spoke softly to the baby. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, and she supposed the words didn’t matter; his velvety voice was enough to make her feel sleepy too. He tucked Elliot in and leaned to kiss his forehead, softly stroking his head before standing up straight and sneaking out of the bedroom.

“I gotta say, based on what I’ve seen, you’re a good father.”  
“You sound almost disappointed,” he smirked.

“Only because I hate admitting I was wrong about you,” Hunnigan smirked back.  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said and was about to grab his jacket, but Hunnigan put her hand over his forearm to stop him.

“I actually had a Christmas present for you. Kind of.”  
“Oh?” he raised his eyebrows and followed her as she headed to her desk in the living room corner. She dug into the drawer and pulled out some paperwork.

“Declaration of paternity?” he stared at the file Hunnigan handed to him. “Seriously?”  
“If you want it and all the rights and _responsibilities_ that come with it,” Hunnigan shrugged.

“I do want it, I really do,” Leon said and was already looking around for a pen to sign the paper with, but Hunnigan raised her hand a little to calm him down.  
“Read it through and seriously think about it before you sign, because a baby’s not just for Christmas, he’s for life,” she smirked, and Leon laughed heartily.

“All right, I’ll do that,” he promised. “So, uhm. What does that make us?” he then asked and Hunnigan frowned.  
“Officially the parents of an illegitimate child. What do you mean?” she quirked an eyebrow and Leon smiled, shaking his head a little.

“If I promise not to turn up wearing a basketball jersey or any other sports apparel, would you have dinner with me? Like a date?”  
“Leon, let’s be honest, you wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t for Elliot, so I think we should just skip that.”

“Hey, hey, that is not true,” he denied adamantly, “you’re the one who’s been turning me down.”  
“Until you got me drunk on that questionable hot chocolate,” she interjected.

“Yeah, and… for the record, I’ve always found you a very attractive woman and—”  
“I know, my breasts are great,” she smirked as she quoted his earlier statement.

“You make it sound so tawdry and cheap when I meant it as a genuine, heartfelt compliment,” he narrowed his eyes at her. “And your breasts are great,” he added quickly then.

“Go home, Leon,” she chuckled.  
“What, we’re not even gonna discuss the possibility of a date?” he pouted as she gently nudged him toward the foyer to encourage him to go.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, and Leon sighed, shrugging his jacket on.  
“Think fast,” he then grinned and leaned to capture her lips into a kiss.

***


	30. Oh, no she di'in't!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to “Can I touch your boob?” leon and Hunnigan

It was not news that Leon never missed the opportunity to flirt with Hunnigan, but today he decided to try surprising her by skipping the bad pickup-lines. He entered her office and closed the door behind him. He didn’t really any actual reason to be there, he just wanted to say hi and maybe make a pass at her.

“Can I touch your boob?” he asked as he leaned closer to her ear, standing behind her chair. She didn’t even flinch at his sudden appearance. He had to admit that disappointed him somewhat.  
“Not the left one, that’s my party-boob, it might go crazy if you touch it,” Hunnigan muttered without even stopping typing.

“Now I’m finding myself rather desperately wanting to see what an out of control-party-boob would look like.”  
“Famous last words,” Hunnigan said, her deadpan tone making her words even funnier.

“So, can I?” he grinned. Hunnigan was already about to tell him that he would get to touch her boob right before he’d die because she’d kill him with her bare hands if he ever did. However, based on past experience, brushing him off wouldn’t work, and in all honesty, his flirty advances didn’t bother her. If they had, she would’ve reported him for harassment years ago. She liked the ridiculous banter, but there were times when she would’ve preferred he just dropped it. Today was one of those days.

Hunnigan slowly pushed her chair further away from the desk and swiveled around in it, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back.

“Take off your clothes,” she said.  
“Wh-what?” Leon stammered.

“You heard me,” she said and stood up. She brought her hands up to undo the buttons of her jacket in exaggerated slowness, drawing out what she assumed (and hoped) was turning into an awkward situation for Leon.  
“I… I’m not sure if I did,” he swallowed hard when she shrugged her jacket off and draped it over the back of her chair.

“I told you to take… off… your… clothes,” Hunnigan repeated, emphasizing each word sternly before taking a step toward Leon. He took one back.  
“You’ve been trying to bed me for fourteen years, so, what are you waiting for?” she asked, took her glasses off and undid her hair, shaking her head and ruffling her hair a little.

“Okay, look… you know I’m all talk, right? I mean, I’ve never intended to make you uncomfortable, and if I have, I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands a little in a surrendering gesture and Hunnigan seized her moment. She stepped to him and straightened her back, effectively pressing her chest against his hands that were just at the right height. He recoiled as if she’d just pressed a hotplate against his palms.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” she inquired, letting her voice drop to a sultry soft tone.  
“Maybe just a little,” he squeaked and lowered his hands, clasping them behind his back.

“Well. Isn’t that a shame,” she said and turned on her heel, returning to her seat. “Was there anything else you needed?” she then asked over her shoulder and put her glasses back on, then gathered her hair into her hands and tied it back up.  
“I’m good, thank you,” he managed after clearing his throat.

“All right. See you tomorrow, agent Kennedy.”

He backed away from the room slowly, fumbling a little with the door handle because he didn’t dare to face away from Hunnigan long enough to turn around and see where it was to open the door. Once he’d gone, Hunnigan burst out laughing, exhaled deeply when it passed and sighed a little. That had gone better than expected.

_Maybe I’ll unleash the party-boob the next time._

_***_


	31. Ignacia Solis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to “Do things that make you happy within the confines of the legal system.” Hunniper

The late September day was sunny and warm, but the conversation Helena was having with Robert, a former colleague from the CIA, was downright chilly. They were seated at a terrace table of a café, seemingly enjoying the beautiful day, but in reality, there was nothing enjoyable about the situation.

“You owe me, I took the fall for you when that interrogation went to shit, so don’t give me excuses, just do it,” she muttered.  
“All right, fine. Give me the address and the schedule and I’ll have it done,” he let out a defeated sigh.

“She’s going to be at work at least from seven A.M. until three-thirty P.M. so you’ve got plenty of time,” Helena said and slid a piece of paper with an address over to him.  
“What’s she done, why is she a person of interest anyway?” he frowned as he looked at the name and let out a quiet slow whistle at the address. Whoever this Ingrid Hunnigan was, she certainly lived in the better part of town, probably paid more rent than he made in a month.

“That is none of your concern.”  
“You are asking me to assign a team to install surveillance in her apartment, I think I deserve to know why, especially since it’s my ass on the line.”

“I’m not asking you to do it, I’m telling you to do it,” Helena corrected, finished her coffee and got up. “Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come pick up the equipment I’ll need,” she said and walked away.

* * *

“When I said ‘do whatever makes you happy’, I obviously meant ‘do things that make you happy within the confines of the legal system’, stalking Hunnigan isn’t within the confines of the legal system!” Leon hissed agitatedly as he took a seat next to Helena. They were in her apartment and it hadn’t been her intention to let him in on her project, but once he’d seen the screens and the images displayed on them, he’d demanded an explanation.

“I’m not stalking her, I’m trying to protect her, and since she refused to let me do that and since she refuses to take this seriously, I have to go around some rules.”  
“If she finds out about this, she will murder you.”

“I know, so let’s just hope it won’t come to that. The sooner we find the guy, the better and that way, Hunnigan will never have to know,” Helena reasoned with a small shrug.

Contrary to what one might have expected, “The Guy” didn't seem to be someone who had decided to target a random, relatively high-ranking government agent because on paper, Hunnigan was just a desk jockey and her deeper involvement regarding handling missions was never disclosed in any reports or news. An ex-partner would’ve been the obvious answer, but all Hunnigan’s exes had been cleared.

The Guy had dressed up as a pizza delivery person and brought a box into the office, left it at Hunnigan’s desk and exited the building. Instead of a pizza, the box had contained a home-made bomb. Fortunately, Hunnigan had recalled never ordering it and had given it to Leon who had accidentally set the bomb off when he’d carelessly tossed the box onto the table in the kitchenette. No one had gotten hurt aside from minor bruises and scratches but had Hunnigan (or anyone else) opened the box right in front of herself, she could’ve gotten killed.

All her exes had air tight alibis for when that had happened, so it couldn’t have been any of them. Unless, of course, Hunnigan was leaving someone out for some reason. Frankly, Helena was beginning to think that was the case, and she told as much to Leon.

“I doubt that. I mean, she’s a private introvert, what did you expect, that she’d jump for joy at the thought of having someone stay with her twenty-four-seven?” Leon scoffed.  
“I like my privacy as much as the next girl, but this is her life we’re talking about.”

“Mm-hm, so when she told you she would not have you following her everywhere, you decided to bug her home. And you think she’s the one who’s behaving strangely?”

“Okay, this is not going to sound very convincing considering the circumstances we met under way back when, but I was really fucking good at my job as a protective agent in the CIA and as one of the President’s personal guards when I was in the Secret Service, I know what I’m doing.”

Leon could’ve made a snide remark, but the truth was, had Simmons been dumb enough to recruit any other agent for his personal project, it would’ve failed because it was like Helena said, she truly was good at her job.

“Look. We’re talking about a guy who had the nerve to waltz into the DSO headquarters pretending to deliver a damn pizza, what’s stopping him from just turning up at Hunnigan’s door at some point? Since Hunnigan won’t let me be a guard dog at the door, this is all I got,” Helena explained.

“Well, the building does have a doorman.”

“Yeah, that eighty-year old guy… who looks very dashing in his uniform and is really nice… or that younger guy who is glued to his phone. Bottom line, I’ve been in and out of there and they’ve never asked a question or ID… and I seriously doubt they’d even be able to tell a fake ID from a real one, so… very secure indeed,” Helena said sarcastically.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” she then sighed, and Leon blew a raspberry as he thought about it and exhaled deeply.  
“For the record, this makes me incredibly uncomfortable. But yeah, I’ll help out. A little. If anyone asks, I did nothing.”

“Noted.”

* * *

_How do you not get lonely? Or bored?_ Helena wondered, completely unaware of the irony of it seeing as she’d spent the past two weeks doing even less than what Hunnigan had been doing while at home; she’d spent hours sitting at her computer watching… Hunnigan sit at _her_ computer. Sometimes she’d curl up with a book, and frankly, the only thing that had surprised Helena regarding Hunnigan and her personal, private life was that she didn’t curl up with a book and a bottle of wine, rather she grabbed a six-pack. Helena had never imagined Hunnigan as the beer-drinking type.

The thing Helena had noticed above everything else was how… lonely Hunnigan’s life seemed. She didn’t call anyone and aside from the odd telemarketer or two, no one called her. There were no visitors and she didn’t visit anyone, never stopped by at a friend’s on her way home from work; the only stop she made was at the grocery store. As far as Helena could tell, no one at the store seemed to be The Guy either, no one following her afterward or acting weird.

Well, no one aside from Helena who felt both proud of being so discreet Hunnigan never even noticed her, and then upset because this was just proving a point; this was how easy it was to follow someone, and they never even know it’s happening. Granted, Helena was a professional, but Hunnigan knew her, she should’ve recognized her, they’d passed each other face-to-face more than once. Helena didn’t like to advocate unnecessary paranoia, but Hunnigan just wasn’t paying attention to anything happening around her.

Helena couldn’t quite understand how that was even possible. When at work, Hunnigan saw and knew everything. She knew the way each of the other FOS agents in her office liked their coffee. She knew the names of everyone’s kids, pets and spouses. She knew what brand of cigarettes the smokers preferred, and she knew who was afraid of water and who was afraid of dogs. She listened, she paid attention, so why was her situational awareness such a joke when it came to her surroundings anywhere else?

Helena perked up when she heard Hunnigan’s doorbell ring. She leaned closer to the screen and turned the volume up as she watched Hunnigan walk across her apartment and answer the door. Helena internally rolled her eyes at Hunnigan for not asking who it was or even taking a second to look through the peephole before opening the door.

“You’re late.”  
“Like, two minutes!” a female voice laughed.

“I’m still docking that from your pay,” Hunnigan smirked when a tall blonde entered the apartment.  
“We both already know you’re not gonna do that,” she chuckled.

“Speaking of your pay, let’s get this out of the way, it’d be awkward if I forget,” Hunnigan then said and handed her a stack of bills. Helena couldn’t make out how much was there exactly, but she was more curious about what Hunnigan was paying for anyway.

“It’s still a thousand, yes?”  
“It’s never been more than eight hundred, and you know it,” the blonde laughed gently as she accepted the money and put it in her wallet.

“Well, at least this way you’ll never be able to say I wasn’t fair,” Hunnigan shrugged with a smile.  
“You know it, I totally call you a sugar mama behind your back,” the blonde chortled and Hunnigan laughed.

“Ah, Nic, I think it’s adorable that you believe I didn’t know you do that,” she shook her head and headed into the kitchen, inquiring the blonde… who was apparently named Nic… if she wanted something.

_Wait, is she… a prostitute?_ Helena frowned when Nic called out that she didn’t want anything and then headed straight into the bedroom.

_No, a thousand bucks is too much for that… at least I think it is. Then again, I believe that if Hunnigan were to hire someone for that, she wouldn’t pick up just anyone,_ Helena mused. She didn’t have a view of the bed, she’d specifically asked Robert to leave that and the bathroom out. She was nosing around Hunnigan’s life, but that was where she drew the line. Besides, as far as safety went, there was no reason to expand the view to those areas; the windows in the bathroom and bedroom were unreachable unless you were Spider-Man or had a jet-pack, so Helena really only needed to see the doors.

Hunnigan entered the bedroom and judging from the sounds, she and Nic got in bed.

_Oh-kay, no, nope, don’t need to hear that,_ Helena grumbled internally and muted her laptop as Hunnigan and Nic spoke quietly, the mutters and murmurs accompanied by the quiet swishing of the bedsheets offering too much information as it was.

Seeing Nic, however, made Helena realize something. Maybe The Guy wasn’t a guy. Hunnigan hadn’t disclosed any female lovers when she’d listed her exes, but Helena assumed she had chosen not to do so. Which meant maybe there was someone who didn’t have an alibi for the bombing.

“Yeah, but why would she have not said anything?” Helena muttered to herself. Maybe she was ashamed. Maybe she was still in the closet. Maybe she just didn’t want anyone to know any more of her personal life than they had to, admitting to this “anomaly” would mean giving away more information that she felt even half-comfortable sharing. Maybe it was none of those reasons if there was one at all. What mattered was that in her search for The Guy, Helena had never even stopped to consider he could be The Gal instead.

* * *

“Helena. We need to talk.”

Had those words been arriving through a phone call or in person, Helena wouldn’t have freaked out. Instead, Hunnigan was leaning into the island in the middle of her kitchen, staring up into the camera which she supposed Robert had disguised (or attempted to) as a smoke detector or some other common item you’d find in a kitchen.

_Oh, shit. Shit. Shit! She knows._

“I know it’s you because you’re the only one who was adamant about this and I know of your CIA-connection. Setting up surveillance wouldn’t be much trouble for you. Also, the fact that you were following me around almost daily for a week or so before this kind of gave you away,” Hunnigan continued nonchalantly and sipped her coffee.

“I’m thinking that whoever did set this up wasn’t a pro though, because quite frankly, the mistakes are just hilarious. Or then he or she didn’t care about getting the job done right. This camera that I’m looking at right now? I can see the damn power indicator-light,” Hunnigan laughed softly. Well, that was true, surveillance wasn't Robert's strong point, but Helena knew he could've done it right if he'd cared enough. Either that or both he and Helena had severely underestimated Hunnigan. Helena was willing to admit it was probably that.

“Also, he’s stupidly connected the cameras into my guest Wi-Fi, so… like I said, either he didn’t care or then he just didn’t really know what he was doing,” Hunnigan continued. Helena figured it was the former. She’d need to have words with Robert about it later… provided she’d survive whatever it was that Hunnigan would do to her when she saw her the next time.

Helena jumped when her phone rang and exhaled in defeat before answering the call.

“…hi…?”  
“Get over here,” Hunnigan said and ended the call immediately after.

“Well, I guess this is how I die,” Helena muttered, got up and began to head over to Hunnigan’s apartment. She wasn’t sure what exactly to expect, as far as she knew, Hunnigan wasn’t the type who would explode into a murderous rage over things, not even when she would’ve had the right to. Then again, Helena couldn’t say she’d witnessed Hunnigan ever have her personal life quite this badly violated before, so who knew what would happen.

Helena felt like she shrunk about a foot the moment Hunnigan answered the door and gave her the level ten death-glare.

“Come in,” Hunnigan said and Helena reluctantly followed, feeling the same kind of discomfort she’d only felt as a kid when she’d been sent to the principal’s office.  
“Okay, listen, I did this because—”

“Oh, no, don’t. I don’t need to know because frankly, I don’t care. Whatever your intentions, you’ve committed a crime, literally, and you’ve also violated my rights on a personal level.”  
“I needed to be sure you were okay, and you wouldn’t let me do anything, what choice did I have?” Helena sighed.

“You could’ve trusted me and let me handle it like I said I would.”  
“Someone damn near blew your head off, literally, and you want to just ignore it and hope it goes away? What is wrong with you!”

“Nothing, but your help is not needed.”  
“So, I was right, you _do_ know who’s behind it.”

“No, but until they blew up my office, I was willing to ignore it. Obviously, that is no longer an option,” Hunnigan sighed and took a seat on the couch. Helena slowly lowered herself to sit on an arm chair but didn’t quite dare to relax.  
“It’s kind of about Nic and others like her who find their way to me. I’m assuming you know about her seeing as you’ve been spying on me for, what, three weeks or so?”

“You… knew all along?”

“Yeah, but it took me a while to figure out it was you and not Leon, because honestly, the work was so clumsy it could’ve been him, and he’s not an expert by any means. But, I digress…” Hunnigan muttered and Helena nodded slowly, grateful that Leon’s involvement wasn’t the topic since she’d promised to keep his involvement a secret, but she didn’t think she would be able to lie to Hunnigan if she directly asked about it.

“Humor me. Tell me what you know… or think you know about the situation,” Hunnigan then said and Helena swallowed hard. She really didn’t want to say what she honestly thought but no matter how she tried to look at the situation she’d witnessed between Nic and Hunnigan, she couldn’t come up with another explanation for it.

“Well… I’m assuming she’s… someone who exchanges her time for… oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m assuming she’s a prostitute. Or an escort? Or something. I don’t know what the person trying to kill you has to do with Nic, though, did you piss off a pimp?” Helena muttered, and she could tell Hunnigan was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

“All right, please, don’t torture me with this for much longer. I know I deserve it for fucking up as bad as I did, but my intentions were good, for whatever little that is worth,” Helena then said, hanging her head low and Hunnigan exhaled deeply, shaking her head.

“Your heart is in the right place, Helena. God only knows where the hell your brain is,” she said.  
“Ow.”

“Nic’s not a prostitute or an escort or anything like that.”  
“Oh, excuse me for thinking that just because you gave her a ton of cash, she called you her sugar mama and then you went to bed, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Helena drawled sarcastically.

“Well, I suppose that technically I am her sugar mama, but that sounds so tawdry, I don’t think I appreciate the title,” Hunnigan pursed her lips as she thought about it and Helena rolled her eyes.

“Nic ran away from home when she was seventeen and as the story usually goes, she ended up going from getting beat by her drunken mother to being abused by a douchebag boyfriend. A couple of years ago, I literally tripped over her when I was heading home from work. It was dark in the underground parking, she was under the stairs. I still don’t know how she got there, she doesn’t remember.”

“Why was she there?” Helena frowned and Hunnigan offered a sad smile.  
“She was sleeping. Or, passed out more like. Her boyfriend had gotten her drunk and then he and his friends had… wolf-packed her,” Hunnigan said and Helena nodded slowly.

“I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she refused, so I brought her home and she stayed here for a while until I got her an apartment of her own. The money you saw me give her wasn’t in exchange for anything lewd, it was just to help her with the student loan payments,” Hunnigan explained.

“…but what about… the bedroom? I mean, I didn’t see anything! Because, for the record, the cam was just aimed at the door, but, you know,” Helena said awkwardly and Hunnigan chuckled.  
“It’s called cuddling, look it up. Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s all that happened, cuddling and binge-watching _Orange is the new black._ ”

“So, the person sending you the threats is the ex-boyfriend? How does he know about you?”  
“I don’t know if it is him or not. Truth be told, it could be a lot of people,” Hunnigan said and Helena frowned.

“What do you mean? Who did you piss off and how?” she asked and Hunnigan blew out a breath.  
“A lot of ex-husbands who are proven to be prone to violence,” she said, and Helena’s eyebrow quirked. She didn’t comment, just silently waited for Hunnigan to explain.

“I’m a part of a network of people who help others, usually women, to leave abusive relationships. A lot of the time people stay with abusive partners because they don’t have anywhere to go, or they can’t afford to leave. Or, alternatively, the farthest they get is the closest friend or relative which is the first place the abuser will look,” Hunnigan began and got up, heading toward the kitchen, making a small “follow me”-gesture as she moved, and Helena got up as well.

“A lot of the people volunteer at shelters and give out the information of the next link in the chain to those who need it,” she said and filled a container with water before pouring the liquid into the coffee maker.

“From there on, depending how much help someone wants or needs, they’re sent to the next person who can help. I’m usually the last stop because I have access to safe houses and other useful connections I can use to help these people make it on their own. And, of course, I’m the one with excess cash, so,” she explained as she finished loading the coffee maker and switched the machine on, the quiet hissing and gurgling sounds it made filling the kitchen.

“Think of it as a sort of a witness protection-program,” she shrugged and took a seat. Helena sighed. Yeah, a witness protection program only with a lot more possible leaks.  
“And you are sure none of the other people in the network have compromised you?” she asked, also kind of wanting to know how could Hunnigan afford all that so easily but decided not to ask. Yet anyway.

“Unlikely. The network’s designed so that we don’t know each other or of each other. Everyone only knows the next link in the chain, so there’s technically only one person who knows about my involvement, and I know she’s not the type who’d be intimidated by an angry ex-spouse.”

“Okay, so, what about the people you’ve helped, any chance one of them could’ve spilled the beans?”  
“Sure, it’s very possible. It’s not uncommon for them to go back home even after everything,” Hunnigan nodded and Helena sighed deeply.

“So, it could literally be anyone.”  
“Yep. Which is why all there is really to do is to wait for him to make his move.”

“You really don’t care, do you? Are you, like… going for suicide by weirdo stalker?” Helena frowned and Hunnigan chuckled, shaking her head a little.  
“No, I just do not come from a normal family, which means it takes a lot to faze me,” Hunnigan smirked.

“Maybe some time you’ll tell me more about it.”  
“Maybe once I’m done being angry at you for spying on me.”

“I’m sorry I did that.”  
“I suppose I’d feel angrier and more violated if I hadn’t noticed it like immediately.”

“Still. But, what about that guy, you can’t just keep ignoring this.”  
“Well, seeing as he’s figured out where to deliver a ‘pizza’ to me at my office, I’m assuming it won’t be long before he shows up here.”

“There you go again with the nonchalance, how are you not concerned?” Helena scoffed, frowning deeply. Hunnigan stood up and grabbed a mug from the cabinet, poured herself a coffee and paused then, leaning into the counter, seeming to somehow deflate as she sighed and hung her head low.

“Truth is, I am terrified,” she muttered.

_That’s why she never left the apartment or went anywhere,_ Helena mused. Granted, there was a possibility it was just how Hunnigan was, as Leon had put it, she was an introvert. But even so, she’d never come across as such a shut-in.

“But I don’t really know what to do about it. Assign a protective detail to myself? Yeah, that wouldn’t be a waste of resources,” Hunnigan rolled her eyes. Then, as if everything was just fine, she grabbed the milk from the fridge and added some into her coffee, asking Helena if she wanted some in hers or if she wanted sugar. Helena shook her head and ignored Hunnigan’s subtle way of trying to change the subject.

“Not a protective detail, just let me be your bodyguard,” Helena said as she accepted the mug of black coffee and took a sip.  
“You seriously don’t have anything better to do?”  Hunnigan inquired as she sat down at the kitchen table, across from Helena.

“You do realize I’ve just spent weeks watching you to make sure you were all right, so, guess.”

“Creep.”  
“Ingrate.”

They both chuckled a little and Hunnigan sighed deeply. She didn’t agree to it, but at least she didn’t turn it down either, Helena took that as a small victory.

“So. What’s your story?” Helena then inquired.  
“A long one. What do you want to know?”

“You mentioned your family earlier. Plus, you seem to be one of the very few who don’t have money problems, how’d that happen?” Helena quirked an eyebrow and Hunnigan chuckled; Helena sure was nosey, but at the same time, Hunnigan realized she was the first person who’d ever really wanted to know about who Hunnigan was.

“My dad was a drug lord. Or, well, he probably still is,” Hunnigan began and Helena’s eyebrows rose so high they seemed to almost disappear into her hairline. Hunnigan struggled to keep from laughing at the younger woman’s expression. The seriousness of her story was enough to extinguish her amusement.

“He was a monster. I mean, not to me or my mom, no, he was very protective of us. But he was capable of doing horrible things. I didn’t really realize that until I was fourteen. I hadn’t seen that side of him,” Hunnigan mumbled and took a sip of her coffee. It was getting cold already.

“I came home early after a Spanish exam which obviously didn’t take long for me to finish since I was fluent, but it was a mandatory class in my school regardless. Anyway, to put it short, I walked in on my dad torturing a guy to death with a blow torch. After seeing something like that, yeah, not a lot fazes me,” Hunnigan said and Helena almost chocked on her coffee.

“Where was your mother?”

“Tied to a kitchen chair, forced to watch it because the guy my dad was busy torturing was also the guy my mom had an affair with. Pretty stupid from her and him if I’m honest,” Hunnigan muttered and went to pour her coffee away. She hated cold coffee.

“So, my dad noticed me and just said ‘have a cookie and run along now, babygirl’, so I did, I ran away as far as I could.”  
“At fourteen? And your parents didn’t look for you?” Helena scoffed in disbelief.

“Oh, I’m sure they tried.”  
“So… how did you make it on your own?”

“I had a ridiculous amount of money which helped a lot.”  
“Dad’s cash?” Helena quirked an eyebrow and Hunnigan chuckled as she got herself another cup of coffee.

“No, actually. I made my own at a very young age. Tech stuff, military-grade search engines, things like that.”  
“Like Google?”

“Better and way before Google was a thing,” Hunnigan chuckled and sat back down. “I spent a lot of the money on real estate and various other investments, some of them paid better than others.”  
“So, the safehouses you mentioned…”

“I own a few apartment buildings, including this one. Most of the units are rented out to whoever, but I keep a few places empty, so they can be used as safehouses if necessary,” Hunnigan explained.  
“Impressive,” Helena said and Hunnigan shrugged a little. She’d never thought of it as particularly impressive, it had been partly luck, partly her skill.

“Are you sure the person coming after you isn’t someone from your dad’s rival… company?” Helena then pondered out loud and Hunnigan laughed, shaking her head.

“Now wouldn’t that be a plot twist? But no, highly unlikely. I’ve no connection to my family, I sent a few letters and called my mom a few times when she was still alive, but I never told her where I was or what I’d changed my name to. As far as anyone on that end is concerned, I never existed.”

“Okay, I admit, you’re pretty badass, but that doesn’t erase the fact that there is indeed a lunatic out there trying to kill you, and you need to deal with it,” Helena then said and Hunnigan sighed in defeat.  
“And how exactly do you suggest I deal with it? I told you, there isn’t a lot I can do.”

“I told you, let me be your guard dog,” Helena smirked.  
“Why do you want to do that?” Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.

“Because I care about you and because protecting people is, in general, what I’m good at, you should know that, you’ve read my file,” Helena said confidently and Hunnigan smiled.  
“All right. You can stay and be my bodyguard… for a while anyway. Go get your things if you’re gonna stay here, I’m not sharing a toothbrush with you,” she then said.

Once Helena had exited, Hunnigan returned to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, but there was a knock on the door. She noticed Helena had forgotten her phone and assumed it was the younger woman returning to retrieve it. Hunnigan grabbed it from the kitchen table and went to answer the door.

The moment she opened it, the man standing outside threw his long coat toward Hunnigan attempting to net her with it, but she recoiled and managed to avoid getting caught in it. He stepped in and kicked the door shut behind him as Hunnigan turned and headed back into the kitchen, not really thinking, merely following an impulse frantically telling her to find something heavy to throw at him or something sharp.

His footsteps sounded terrifyingly loud and heavy as he followed her and the moment she felt his hand reach out to grab her shoulder, the took the pot of coffee and threw the scalding liquid onto his face and jammed the empty pot forward, the reinforced glass impacting hard into his nose and mouth. He fell to the floor, shrieking and uselessly grabbing at his face as his skin burned. Hunnigan dropped the pot and hurled herself into motion, circling around him and dashed into the foyer. She yanked the door open and ran out only to literally crash into Helena who’d been standing there, her hand raised a little, her intention having been to knock.

“It’s me, it’s me!” Helena said, putting her arms around her and turning her away from whatever she was running from to shield her. The Guy made his way toward the door, blindly feeling his way around the wall and clutching whatever edges he could find, still grunting and wailing in pain. Helena turned, placing herself between Hunnigan and the man, and raised her pistol. She pulled the slide back, making sure he heard the unmistakable sound of it and he stopped moving.

“You fucking son of a bitch, I’m gonna put you out of your misery,” Helena growled and took a step forward, pressing the stainless steel barrel of the gun firmly against his forehead.  
“Helena, don’t. It’s a _bad_ shooting, you know that,” Hunnigan almost yelled as she hurried to grip Helena’s forearm and push against it, gently trying to force Helena to lower the gun.

“Put the gun down!” a male voice called out and Hunnigan turned to look over to the end of the hallway where a pair of police officers stood, obviously having the wrong idea of the situation. Hunnigan moved to stand between Helena and them, her arms raised a little as she tried to calm the situation down so that no one would get shot.

“Hold your fire, she’s a government agent!”

“I’m putting my gun down, all right? Just, everybody chill,” Helena said and slowly lowered the weapon before giving it a small kick and sending it sliding away from herself. One of the officers moved to them while the other stayed back with his gun still drawn.

“What the hell happened here?”  the officer closer to them asked then.  
“Well…”

* * *

After having spent hours going over what had happened and giving their statements, Helena and Hunnigan were finally told they could go home. Helena offered to stay with Hunnigan if she wanted, but she refused the offer, adamantly stating that she was fine.

“I’ll probably have to spend my time cleaning the mess the techs have left behind while going through the place anyways, so it’s not like I’d be much company,” Hunnigan smirked.  
“I could help you clean,” Helena shrugged.

“It’s fine, really. I appreciate the offer and I’m glad you were there earlier, but go home,” Hunnigan said and Helena reluctantly let it go. She drove home, wondering how many guys like that were out there. Hunnigan had never met the man, she didn’t know whose angered ex he possibly could’ve been, how he’d found her, or if he even was one of the exes and not just a random nutjob who’d decided to target her for whatever reason. Helena supposed all of that would come out during the course of the investigation, but still.

When Helena got into her apartment, she realized the bugs were still in place, she’d completely forgotten about them. Maybe there would be some useful footage there about the assault the A.D.A. could use if (and hopefully when) The Guy would ever be prosecuted. Helena sat down in front of the computer and the monitors, getting ready to go look for the moment the attack had happened when she heard something.

She looked through the various little windows, shutting them down individually until she was left with the feed from Hunnigan’s bedroom door. Hunnigan was crying. Not the tiny almost inaudible sniffles reserved for moments when someone might notice you were crying, no. These were the kind of loud, heartbreaking sobs you let out when you were convinced no one would ever know. The kind you cried into a pillow in the hopes of it somehow muffling the sound and your pain, but it never really did either.

“Oh, God,” Hunnigan sighed then when her phone rang. Helena smile ruefully at that.  
“Yeah?” she answered the call, trying to sound like she hadn’t been crying. Helena had to say she would’ve fallen for it had she not known better.

“What’s the matter?” Helena asked.  
“Nothing, why are you—”

“No one cries like that for nothing,” Helena interrupted quietly.  
“Augh, shit, come on!” Hunnigan spat angrily. “Shut that crap down!”

“I was going to, that’s when I heard you. You sure you don’t want me to come over?” Helena then asked and Hunnigan sighed deeply.  
“It’s just adrenaline, I’m fine.”

“That’s not an answer.”  
“…I don’t really want to be alone now,” Hunnigan finally admitted after a long moment of silence.

“I’m on my way.”

* * *

“Frankly, I’m a bit embarrassed,” Hunnigan said and took a sip of the rum and coke she’d made for herself after deciding to switch into something a bit stronger than coffee to calm her nerves. Thankfully, the people who’d been around to collect evidence and take photos earlier hadn’t made much of a mess and hadn’t told her to keep the scene intact in care they’d need to come back later. Not that there was much evidence to collect to begin with.

“Why?” Helena frowned and sat up straight on the couch, turning her full attention to Hunnigan who sat next to her.  
“Because this whole thing is just so stupid. I should’ve been more careful, I shouldn’t have ended up in this situation and I certainly shouldn’t have needed you to swoop in and rescue me.”

“I like rescuing you,” Helena grinned and Hunnigan rolled her eyes at that but smiled nonetheless; it was nice to feel cared for. Frankly, that feeling was the only thing that had kept her from wanting to strangle Helena for having the audacity have someone break into her apartment and install all the bugs; Helena hadn’t done it just for the hell of it, she’d done it out of genuine desire to keep her safe. At least that was she’d said and Hunnigan was willing to believe her.

“The thing is, I’m not used to such things. I’ve been taking care of myself for the past twenty years and I’ve never understood people who say they need someone to look after them. It’s not a need, unless you’re a child,” Hunnigan said and Helena nodded slowly.

“Sounds to me like you’re terrified of people thinking of you as a damsel in distress when clearly, you are a strong, independent woman,” she summarized and Hunnigan chuckled.  
“Well, kind of, yeah.”

“Would you consider me a damsel in distress?” Helena then asked.  
“Never,” Hunnigan chortled and Helena smiled.

“Yet, I totally have been one, more than once, but most recently I recall the time I committed a little crime called treason. I’d be in jail if you hadn’t swooped in and rescued me. And don’t try to tell me that it was different, because it really isn’t,” Helena then said and scooted closer to Hunnigan, letting her arm rest over the back of the couch. Hunnigan shifted a little too, and for a while Helena expected her to move further away from her, but instead, Hunnigan moved to press her side against Helena’s.

“Regardless, it’s not something I enjoy. I don’t want to get used to relying on someone to always come save me.”

“And you’re right, you shouldn’t just assume that someone will fix everything for you, but at the same time, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the feeling of security you get when you know that there’s someone you can rely upon,” Helena commented, loosely gripping Hunnigan’s hand in her own, letting the side of thumb caress the back of it lightly.

“Let me be that someone,” she then added.  
“Why?” Hunnigan frowned.

“Because, evidently, I’m good at it,” Helena smirked and Hunnigan scoffed, not agreeing or disagreeing.  
“And the reason I’m good at it is because I genuinely care about you. A lot. So, it’s important to me that you’re okay, safe and sound,” Helena continued, her voice growing softer and Hunnigan swallowed hard at her words.

“Well, honestly, you are one of the very few selfless and truly brave people I’ve ever known, sometimes you’re downright stupidly—” Hunnigan began to say but Helena distracted her by putting her fingertips underneath Hunnigan’s chin and gently urging her to turn her head, and when she did, Helena leaned to interrupt her words with a kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I met you,” Helena grinned a little after breaking the kiss.  
“That happened over two years ago,” Hunnigan scoffed a little.

“I know,” Helena stated and Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow. “You were so neatly put together in your perfect suit and not a single hair out of place, I just wanted to mess you up. I still do. In a good way,” Helena added. 

“Well… sorry to disappoint by not having anything to mess up at the moment,” Hunnigan smirked. She’d left her hair open and instead of her trademark gray suit, she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that had a picture of a tiny cartoon owl popping out from a coffee mug underneath a text that said there was no life before coffee.

“I find myself liking this version of you even more,” Helena said and Hunnigan almost blushed. Almost.  
“You’re cute, but—”

“Damn right I am,” Helena interrupted because she didn’t want to hear the soul crushing things that she was certain were just waiting for her behind that little word.   
“…I seriously doubt I could be the woman you think I am,” Hunnigan finished her sentence in a mutter.

“Why? Because I don’t know your favorite color, your favorite food or your mother’s maiden name?”  
“Helena, you don’t even know my name,” Hunnigan laughed heartily and Helena stared at her blankly for a long while, realizing she was right.

“My point is, how can you be sure you’re not the woman I think you are? Aside from your name, what is so different about who I think you are and who you actually are? I bet not a lot,” Helena reasoned.  
“I don’t know. I guess it really depends on what you think.”

“I think I’m falling for you which, coincidentally, means I don’t do a lot of thinking in general nowadays because I’m distracted. Like this one time at work, I literally just sat there for like half an hour just thinking about you because I knew you’d been there because I could smell your perfume. Leather and dry wood with a hint of something softer,” Helena recalled and leaned closer to Hunnigan’s neck, inhaling slowly and deeply.

“I want to say almonds,” she mumbled then, her breath touching the side of Hunnigan’s neck causing her to unconsciously hold her breath. She found herself wishing Helena would close the small space between her lips and Hunnigan’s neck, but she didn’t; Hunnigan was convinced Helena knew she was expecting her to, which was why she didn’t do it.

“Cherry, actually,” Hunnigan corrected in a whisper. Helena inhaled again.  
“Hm. How did I miss that?” she pondered and pulled back, the movement bringing Hunnigan back to reality. The small, confident smile on Helena’s lips told her she knew exactly what she’d done.

“You are such a tease.”  
“I can be, but I was also very serious about what I said… about falling in love with you,” Helena then said and as if to back up her statement, her smile faded, and her expression grew serious.

“I’m not gonna lie and say I never thought about you that way, but…”  
“No buts. You’ve thought about it, I’ve thought about it, both consenting adults here, so what’s the problem? There is no problem,” Helena gave her salespitch and Hunnigan smiled.

“Other than more than possibly having to undergo a psychological evaluation at work to determine if we’d still be capable of working together, and we’d probably fail it if your recent shenanigans are anything to go by because you seem to obsess over my safety,” Hunnigan drawled and Helena rolled her eyes.

“All I heard was you saying what a wonderfully loving and passionate woman I am,” she said and Hunnigan chortled.

“I suppose that is one way of putting it,” she admitted and slipped her arm around Helena’s midsection to be able to press into her side fully. Helena smiled and let her arm rest over Hunnigan’s shoulders, pulling her close and nuzzling the top of her head when Hunnigan leaned to rest it on Helena’s chest.

“So, even at the risk of sounding like a thirteen-year-old… will you be my girlfriend?” Helena then inquired and Hunnigan chuckled.  
“I would like that.”

“Yasss,” Helena whispered victoriously. “Since we’ve established that, would it be all right if I asked what your birth name was?” she then asked and Hunnigan pursed her lips a little as the thought about it.  
“Not yet.”

“Okay. Then I have another question. Do you intend to continue cuddling with Nic?”  
“Probably, most likely almost definitely,” Hunnigan said and Helena quirked an eyebrow. At least she was frank about it.

“Am I allowed to get jealous?”  
“Yes, at first, but ultimately you should come to realize it’s not about romance or sex and that you have nothing to be jealous about.”

“All right then. This was a weird conversation.”

“Agreed,” Hunnigan chuckled. “It’s getting late,” she then noted.  
“Yeah, I should probably…” Helena trailed off, not really wanting to finish the sentence, and Hunnigan knew as much.

“You’re welcome to spend the night if you want,” she offered, and Helena smiled.  
“I would love that.”

* * *

Hunnigan was the first to wake up and it took her a while to remember why she wasn’t alone in her bed. Years upon years of witnessing the worst of relationships (first with her parents, then with all the people who’d come to her for help when escaping an abusive spouse) had left her wanting little to nothing to do with them. She’d always been more than happy by herself and never imagined anything would be worth risking that for because based on her experience, people always found a way to let you down and hurt you. Why needlessly expose herself even to the possibility of that since she was fine on her own?

However, with Helena it felt… different. Helena was reliable, protective, trustworthy (even though she had her moments of bad judgment and letting emotions get the better of her, but Hunnigan was willing to blame a part of that on Helena’s youth). She had an aura of strength that seemed to radiate from her deepest core and engulf those around her in it, bringing about a sense of security. It sounded ridiculous, she knew, but it really felt like having a pair of loving arms around her keeping her safe and away from any harm, even the kind she’d never even realized to imagine. Perhaps that was a part of why Helena had always been good at her job; he presence alone was enough to convince anyone that she’d keep them safe and that they could trust her.

Helena turned to lay on her side, still fast asleep, but her arm instinctively wrapping around Hunnigan’s midsection and pulling her close. She smiled and snuggled into Helena’s neck, letting her eyes close as she felt Helena sleepily run her fingers through her hair.

Maybe this wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to get used to after all.

***


	32. No time to cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty Ada/Leon that started from the idea of Leon running into Hunnigan at a grocery store and spying on what she's buying.

“I ran into Hunnigan at the store today,” Leon said as he lay on his back on the bed, one hand crossed behind his head, the empty bottle of Jameson sitting on the bedside table, abandoned alongside with the shot glass he’d not even bothered using after the first three or four shots.

“And?” Ada asked over her shoulder. She sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to grab the zipper on the side of her boot and tugged on it, closing it before turning her attention to the other boot.

“And I looked into her shopping cart and she had stuff like broccoli and potatoes and some fish and other stuff like that, I think she was gonna make mashed potatoes.”

“And?” Ada asked again, buttoning up her shirt. She doubted Leon was telling her about this just for fun, she refused to believe they were that desperate for topics of conversation, and frankly, the contents of Ingrid Hunnigan’s shopping cart made for poor post-pillow-talk.

She had noticed Leon spoke often of Hunnigan. A lesser woman could've gotten jealous. But, it wasn't surprising he did that, he was the godfather of her child and frankly, Ada was convinced Leon was vicariously living a family life through her since starting his own didn't seem to be an option. Deep down, Ada assumed it was partly because of her; Leon was holding a torch for her and ignoring other opportunities even if they were there. She refused to feel guilty about it. She hadn't asked him to wait for her. She would never either because she knew there was nothing more she could offer to him no matter how long he waited.

“And I got so envious. There she was, just… buying some healthy stuff, probably gonna cook a nice meal for her family, and there I was with a bottle of whiskey and a frozen pizza.”

“How much do you want to bet she’s having this same conversation with Helena, only she’s complaining about how you get to have all the fun while she has to go home and feed her family?” Ada countered with a smirk, them both knowing the odds her of being right were very low.

“When I was younger, I always thought that at this age, I’d be buying potatoes and broccoli and going home to a wife and a kid, you know? Or I’d imagined I’d at least have my shit together, but I don’t,” he muttered. Ada sighed internally and stood up. She’d hoped she would be able to slip out of the room before the drunk-train Leon was on would go around the bend and he’d go from happily drunk to miserable and sickeningly remorseful over the wasted time.

Ada could be a lot of things if need be. She could be sly, she could be a very convincing liar, she could be confident to the point of convincing herself to believe in her own bravado, but there was one thing she’d never been able to bring herself to do and that was to outright lie to Leon. She’d withheld things, kept secrets, but never lied. Not even when she could tell that all he wanted to hear was a comforting gentle lie.

“You believed that even after Raccoon?” she asked him instead of offering the comfort he was fishing for.

“For a while, I did,” he confirmed and sat up, leaning his back against the headboard and bending one leg at the knee, resting his arm over it.  “I used to think that there was hope for a normal life, but obviously, that didn’t turn out how I’d thought it would.”

“Things rarely do,” Ada agreed and shrugged her jacket on. She knew he was hoping she’d share something about herself like he just had, but he knew better than to directly ask. Even if she’d wanted to share, she didn’t think there was much left to tell as in she barely remembered who she was anymore underneath the layers of Ada Wong.

Her memories were little shards and glimpses that surfaced every now and then but were never enough to complete the puzzle. She remembered training in gymnastics as a child, but that memory got immediately mottled with the assassin training and drowned into it. She remembered the sight of her mother’s hands as she spread correction fluid over a piece of paper, but that was all; just the image of her hands moving and holding the tiny brush. She remembered her father liked to sing, but she couldn’t recall what he sounded like. No faces, no voices, just disembodied fragments.

In a way, it was comforting. She knew she should’ve felt more bothered by the lack of memories, but she didn’t. What would she need them for anyway, they were a weakness, likely to hold her back, distract her. She couldn’t afford that. She couldn’t afford naïve fantasies about what could’ve been had things been different. What was the point of what ifs?

“Hey,” Leon said softly and got up, reaching to softly touch her arm as she’d turned to leave. He was still undressed, the smears of their combined bodily fluids slowly drying onto his skin and pubic hair, making him uncomfortably sticky. He hadn’t had a chance to shower and he’d known better than to try inviting himself to join Ada when she’d taken one.

“You won’t even say goodbye?”

“I never do, you know that,” Ada smiled nonchalantly, her hand already on the doorhandle as she prepared to make her exit.

“I guess I do,” he confirmed quietly and squeezed his hands into tight fists as he struggled to keep himself from pulling her into a hug.

Sex was easy, it could be casual, sometimes downright meaningless; genuine affection and such gestures as hugs were off-limits, she wouldn’t tolerate it from him. Not even if she knew she would’ve enjoyed it. If she’d let him close enough for that, the walls would come down and before she’d know it, she’d be buying broccoli and potatoes. She shuddered at the mere thought.

“See you around,” she smiled, cupped his cheek for a second and exited the room, not looking back and knowing he’d remain standing by the door for the longest moment hoping she’d change her mind and come back. She never had and never would, no matter how bad the hollow ache in her chest got with every step she took to get away from him.

But, as always, the pain would be temporary, it never had the time for much more than a brief visit before it would be shoved aside by the adrenaline and excitement a new mission would bring. No time to cry.

***


	33. Spice girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a response to the prompts  
> "Don't be scared, I'm right here", and "what's cookin' good lookin'" (and make it about A cooking B hot food and B not wanting to admit she can't handle it, also keep the word count below 2500 words).

Hunnigan knew she shouldn’t take Helena’s bravado seriously, but this time the subject had been so ridiculous, she couldn’t let it go. Helena needed to learn a lesson. She needed to be forced into a situation where she’d need to put her money where her mouth is.

Out of all the childish things to argue about, Helena had fixated on Hunnigan’s ability to handle her spicy foods better than Helena could. Granted, she’d been drunk and oddly insecure when she’d taken it upon herself to loudly and repeatedlty say she could eat habanero peppers for breakfast, and intellectually Hunnigan knew the argument hadn’t been about one’s ability to handle chili peppers, but right now, she was feeling a bit childish too.

“What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” Helena asked sleepily as she scuffed into the kitchen wearing an oversized T-shirt and nothing else, her hair in an adorable mess. She paused to hug Hunnigan from behind before proceeding to grab a mug and pouring herself coffee.

“Habanero-cheddar waffles.”  
“A what now?”

“Savory _spicy_ waffles. You said you could eat habaneros for breakfast, so I made breakfast including them,” Hunnigan elaborated, knowing perfectly well Helena wouldn’t be able to handle it. She could barely handle a cored jalapeño without making a face.

And that was fine, Hunnigan had never understood Helena’s pointless need to keep proving she’s the toughest bitch on the planet, especially not when her attempts of proving it included juvenile boasting about insignificant things like being able to consume spicy food. It had nothing to do with toughness as much as it had to do with just what one is accustomed to.

Hunnigan did admit that one of the most charming qualities about Helena was her ability to go from responsible and mature to reckless and childish as a teenage boy. It made her interesting, there was never a dull day when she was around. But, sometimes, Hunnigan could’ve gone without the childish competitiveness.

“Cool!” Helena smirked and went to take a seat.

 _I’m sure this counts as spousal abuse,_ Hunnigan mused when she handed Helena a waffle she’d prepared, the piece of food looking deceptively harmless. Helena managed to get a few bites in before the heat visibly hit her.

“It’s really good with honey too,” Hunnigan said as she poured some on her waffle and watched Helena struggle to keep from getting up and chugging a gallon of milk. She pretended she didn’t notice Helena was in trouble.  
“Yeah? Can I take a taste?”

“Sure,” Hunnigan said and offered her a piece of her waffle, knowing perfectly well Helena was asking only because she wanted to make sure Hunnigan wasn’t cheating; her waffle was made with the exact same recipe and from the same batter as Helena’s, but Hunnigan wasn’t profusely sweating and turning red the way Helena was.

Helena soldiered through the entire waffle before she had to admit she couldn’t take it anymore. She hurried to the fridge and grabbed the milk, hastily trying to get the lid open while simultaneously shaking open a bag of white bread. She shoved a piece into her mouth and washed it down with milk. Hunnigan didn’t comment, instead, she continued eating her breakfast.

“Oh, my God, it’s not helping,” Helena groaned as she took hissing breaths and doubled over, resting her forehead against the kitchen counter.  
“Grab some peanut butter,” Hunnigan suggested and Helena scrambled to do that.

“Why did you do this to me?” Helena hiccupped, her face red and glistening with sweat.  
“You said you could eat habaneros for breakfast,” Hunnigan reminded her.

“Well obviously that was just some of the famous Harper hot air, you should know better than to take me seriously!” Helena coughed and ran her hand over her face. Her eyes were watering and her nose was running, the veins in her forehead bulged like she was straining.

“My stomach hurts, I feel like I’m melting from inside,” Helena groaned and ran a hand over her upper lip. “Oh, God, I’m bleeding,” she then exclaimed when she realized there was blood running from her nose and not just snot.  
“Okay, hold on,” Hunnigan said, went to Helena and rubbed a circle on Helena’s back with her hand. She then reached to open the freezer with the other and pulled out a pint of ice cream.

“Are you serious?” Helena scoffed in between hiccups.  
“Trust me,” Hunnigan smiled and Helena dug a spoonful of ice cream from the pint. “Better?”

“Well, that does kind of help,” Helena said and wiped the snot from her upper lip. “Sexy, huh?”  
“Hot. Literally,” Hunnigan smirked.

“You are such a bitch,” Helena laughed and took another swig of milk.  
“You know what they say, you hurt the ones you love,” Hunnigan shrugged nonchalantly.

“Mm-hm, come over here and give me a kiss,” Helena then said and puckered her blood, milk and snot-covered lips while leaning toward Hunnigan.  
“Oh, God, no!” Hunnigan mewled and ducked the attempted kiss, taking a few steps away from Helena.

“You’re gonna have to make this up to me some way,” Helena narrowed her eyes and Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.  
“Why, you got what you deserved.”

“You exaggerated,” Helena argued and went to rinse her face at the sink.  
“Clearly, so did you when you said you could handle the peppers,” Hunnigan said. “Speaking of that incident, are you gonna tell me what the real problem was the other night?” she then asked and Helena blushed again, this time out of embarrassment.

“You could down whiskey without making a face, I couldn’t, Leon remarked that your figurative dick is bigger than mine, and it snowballed from there.”

“So, let me get this straight-ish. We’re lesbians.”  
“Yes.”

“One of us, namely, you, is actually repulsed by dicks.”  
“Yes.”

“And you’re upset because my imaginary dick is bigger than your imaginary dick?”  
“Yes.”

“How is... why... I don’t understand how that’s even a scale you’d measure something on!” Hunnigan said in exasperation.  
“I didn’t say it makes sense! I turn into a stupid teenage boy when I get drunk! And all I wanted was to live in the belief that I can eat more chili peppers than you can, but you just couldn’t let me have that, could you,” Helena pretended to sniffle.

“No, because I like my women without imaginary balls.”  
“That’s not gonna be a problem, you’ve officially castrated me,” Helena smirked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your balls, I’ll have them stuffed and mount them on my desk,” Hunnigan said and Helena burst out laughing at the mental image.  
“I still think you owe me for turning me into a snotty blubbering mess,” Helena then said and put her arms around Hunnigan’s waist, pulling her closer.

“Oh, I do?” she quirked an eyebrow. Helena hopped up to sit on the counter and put her legs around Hunnigan’s midsection, held her face in her hands and leaned to kiss her deeply.  
“Mm-hmm, definitely,” Helena smiled into the kiss. Hunnigan slid her hands under Helena’s shirt and raked her fingernails over the long muscles of Helena’s back.

“Is there anything in particular you had in mind?” Hunnigan inquired, slowly running her hands down along Helena’s ribs and over to the outer sides of her thighs.  
“I’m not sure... you might have to put those nimble fingers of yours to work...”

“I could do that,” Hunnigan said huskily and slipped her hand between Helena’s legs, running her fingers lightly over the labia, slowly adding a bit more pressure, rubbing the soft flesh gently.

“Oh, God.”  
“Already?”

“Oh, God, Hunnigan!” Helena gasped but it was becoming clear she was not doing so because she felt good.  
“What?” Hunnigan frowned and pulled back.

“It... it... oooh my God, it burns!” Helena yelled and got down from the counter.  
“Crap, I totally forgot I handled the peppers with bare hands!” Hunnigan exclaimed when she realized what was wrong.

“If I find out you did this on purpose, I will pepper spray your pussy while you sleep! Oh, fuck it hurts!” Helena shouted as she dragged herself into the bathroom.  
“It was an accident! Here, sit on this!” Hunnigan said and handed Helena the pint of ice cream before Helena agitatedly slammed the door shut.

* * *

“I’m sorry I behaved like a stupid boy and got us started on this unholy path of pepper-related mayhem”, Helena apologized.  
“I’m sorry I fed you habaneros despite knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle it,” Hunnigan apologized as well. They were quiet for a long while and Helena pursed her lips, reaching to run her fingers through Hunnigan’s hair.

“...that’s it, you’re not gonna apologize for essentially pepper spraying my pussy?” she had to ask then and Hunnigan chuckled.

“No because that was an accident and if I hadn’t done that, it never would’ve occurred to me to lick ice cream from there, so you have to admit, it was a happy accident,” she said and turned to kiss Helena’s cheek before settling back to lie down, her head resting on Helena’s chest

“I’d want to argue with that, but I can’t really, so I guess we’re even.”  
“Good. And the next time you feel like you need to show off your imaginary big dick, just challenge me to arm wrestle you, it’ll hurt you less.”

“Not if you win.”  
“I don’t think I can win with you sometimes, you’re such a baby,” Hunnigan teased.

“I’m not a baby!” Helena argued and pursed her lips into an exaggerated, childish pout. Hunnigan laughed and put her hand on Helena’s cheek.  
“Who’s the baby? You’re the baby!” she said and patted Helena’s face softly.

“God, don’t ever do that again,” Helena scoffed and swatted her hand away.  
“I won’t if you stop acting like a kid,” Hunnigan smirked.

“All right, full disclosure? Like, honest adults would do?” Helena then muttered.  
“Tell me.”

“The reason I was so upset the other night wasn’t... it’s not that I want to ‘top’ you at everything, I just... what Leon said... how I heard it... I mean, I know he didn’t mean to insult me, I’ve never taken him for someone who would hurt someone’s feelings just because.”

“What did he say to you?” Hunnigan frowned.

“I don’t remember his exact words, but what it sounded like to me was that everyone thinks you’re way out of my league. And they’re not wrong, but it still hurts to hear it from people I thought were my friends.”  
“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Hunnigan asked and rose to lean on her arm to be able to look at Helena.

“You’re the smart successful one, I’m the screw up from the bad side of town. Then he made the comment about you being better than me at everything, and I’d already had one too many at that point and... we know where that all ended going. I know how stupid and immature it all is, but it really hurt.”

“Helena, why does it matter what he allegedly thinks?”

“It doesn’t, but I agree that you’re too good for me, and I’m scared. I’m scared that tomorrow you’ll wake up and realize you’re wasting your time with me. Or maybe you’ll meet someone who’s equally smart and elegant and has dignity and... manners, and...can eat chili without turning into blubbering mess,” Helena listed and Hunnigan sighed.

“Don’t be scared. I’m right here,” she whispered and leaned to kiss Helena. “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”  
“I believe you... I just get stupid and insecure at times,” Helena said into the kiss.

“Hm... what could we do to make those insecurities go away,” Hunnigan pretended to ponder and Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
“Well, you could start texting me reassuring words of your undying love every hour,” she grinned and Hunnigan chuckled, shaking her head a little.

“Naw, I’m too lazy for that. We could just get married,” she suggested nonchalantly.  
“ _You_ want to marry _me_?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been together for over three years, some people get married after three months. I think it’s about time one of us asked.”

“I’ve wanted to ask but I never thought you’d say yes,” Helena mumbled.  
“I would’ve, in a heartbeat. So, what do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Yes, I will marry you. But you’re gonna have to ask me again in front of Leon. I want him to see that _you_ asked _me_.”

“Were you always this insecure?”  
“Not until I started dating the smartest and the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

“I shouldn’t be as flattered by that as I am. I love you, Helena.”  
“I love you, Ingrid, and I’d eat a handful of the hottest peppers for you any day.”  
“Let's save that for our wedding night.”

***

 


End file.
